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ADAM  SHUFFLER, 


BY 

S.  A.  BEADLE. 


Copyrighted  September  16,  1901, 
BY  SAMUEL  ALFRED  BEADLE. 


Published  by 

Harmon  Publishing  Company, 
Jackson,  Miss 


DEDICATION. 


I  N  the  course  of  life  it  sometimes  happens  that  one 
*•  meets  with  a  stalwart  fellow  pilgrim  who  is  so 
congenial,  obliging  and  agreeable  ;  so  considerate  of 
your  personal  welfare  and  general  good  ;  one  that  is 
so  gracious  and  kind  that  his  devotion,  rising  above 
the  meaner  passions  of  mankind — malice  and  hate — 
lifts  the  pack  from  your  shoulders  ;  and,  with  your 
burden  upon  his  own,  divides  the  vicissitudes  of  the 
journey  with  you.  In  the  evolution  of  an  inferior 
people,  the  same  often  occurs  ;  and  I  but  assert  a 
simple  truth  when  I  say  that  the  education  of  the 
Negro  in  the  South  is  fostered  and  maintained  by 
such  a  spirit. 

And  if,  in  the  dedication  of  a  book,  the  author 
should  remember  the  patron  who  has  made  the  publi- 
cation of  it  possible,  I  know  of  nothing  more  worthy 
than  that  philanthropic  public  spirit  which  has  built 
a  school-house  and  a  church  on  every  hill-top,  so  to 
speak,  in  our  sunny  clime. 

To  this  spirit  I  sincerely  dedicate  this  unworthy 
atom  of  my  regard  and  say,  "  Thanks." 

THE  AUTHOR. 


?s 


CONTENTS. 

Page. 
MOLASSES  CURED  HAM, 3 

APRIL  FOOL, 15 

THE  REMINISCENSES  OF  THE  FLASK, 21 

THE  VOODOO'S  JACK,         - 3I 

A  MAD  MAN'S  L,OVE  AFFAIRS, 41 

HOME  MISSIONS  vs.  A  COCK  FIGHT,        ....       53 

THE  JEWEL-TAILED  'POSSUM, 75 

HE  FORGOT  His  HEAD, 89 

SPLITTING  THE  DIFFERENCE, 105 

ADAM  SHUFFLER, I25 

HAOAR, I3I 

A  DOLLAR'S  WORTH  OF  CONSCIENCE,  141 

DE  ELOQUENT  FAB' WELL, I46 


1118348 


PREFACE. 


Again  I  come  to  the  point  where  composition  is 
painful  to  me  and  tedious  to  you  ;  for,  so  I  take  it,  he 
who  presents  his  children  to  strangers  is  expected  to 
show  pride  in  the  introduction.  How  painful  it  must 
be  when  the  stranger  knows  that  the  doting  parent  is 
covering  the  deformity  of  his  child  with  artistic  and 
gaudy  apparel  from  the  wardrobe  of  fashion. 

Truly,  I  would  not  write  a  preface  were  it  not 
fashionable  to  do  so. 

Since  I  am  at  it,  let  me  fancy  that  I  am  as  con- 
sistent as  the  mother  who,  holding  up  her  six-weeks- 
old  baby  in  the  presence  of  her  husband,  says  to  his 
friend:  "Ain't  he  sweet  and  beautiful?  Just  like 
his  papa,  so  everybody  says." 

You  were  worthy  of  the  contempt  of  every  mother  in 
Christendom,  if  you  did  not  appreciate  the  situation 
and  say,  "  The  child  is  indeed  lovely,"  although  you 
knew  that  the  hunchback  father  and  club-footed  baby 
were  not  models  of  beauty. 

However  much  deformed  these  children  of  my 
fancy  are,  I  part  with  them  with  a  shudder  and  a 
pan?,  especially  so  when  I  remember  the  little  pleas- 
antries and  fond  ties  which  have  bound  me  to  them 
are  soon  to  be  severed  forever  and  their  privacy 
invaded  by  critics. 


PREFACE, 

Excuse  my  emotion  !  It  is  no  easy  thing,  this 
leave-taking  of  the  children  of  my  fancy.  They 
have  been  wi'h  me  so  long — I  have  learned  to  love 
them  so  !  They  are  such  beautiful  tilings,  these  con- 
ceptions of  my  brain — so  much  like  livirg,  human 
beings  they  seem — so  much  a  part  of  me — so  way- 
ward, frail  and  mean,  that  I  shudder  when  I  think  of 
thc'ir  pilgrimage  and  the  stern,  cold,  relentless  world 
through  which  they  are  to  take  their  course. 

They  were  created  for  amusement,  and  if  they  do 
not  make  you  smile  then  they  are  miserable  failures; 
and  I  hope  they  will  have  the  common  sense  to  shake 
the  dust  of  your  house  from  their  heels  and  pass  on 
to  more  congenial  climes  and  people  more  jovial. 

Should  they,  Aunt  Ellen,  Peter  Snelling,  Ike 
S'ubbs,  Hager,  and  the  gentleman  who  forgot  his 
head,  pretend  to  have  extraordinary  powers,  you  must 
not  be  deceived,  for  they  are  but  children  of  the  hovel 
— and  a  Negro  hovel  at  that. 

These  are  simple  stories  of  Negro  life,  written 
for  the  amusement  of  my  friends  ;  and  if  they  in  any 
way  add  to  your  pleasure,  I  shall  feel  myself  amply 
paid  for  my  endeavor. 

With  your  pleasure  ever  uppermost  in  my  mind, 
I  am,  Yours  truly, 

SAMUEL  ALFRED  BEA.DLE, 

No.  727  West  Pearl  Street, 
Jackson,  Mississippi. 


SAMUEL  ALFRED  BEADLE. 


Molasses  Cured  Ham. 


MOLASSES  CURED  HAM. 


I  WAS  passing  Mr.  James  Head's  barber  shop, 
•*•  which  is  near  the  dining-rooms  of  Dudley  Stew- 
ait,  when  I  heard  an  animated  discussion  over  the 
curing  of  ham. 

Mr.  Head's  shop  is  a  place  of  artistic  beauty. 
From  the  oil-cloth  floor  to  the  frescoed  ceiling,  nov- 
elty is  its  absorbing  feature.  It  is  said  that  the  chairs 
of  this  shop  are  enchanted ;  that  no  sooner  do  you  touch 
them  and  feel  the  edge  of  the  razors  of  the  place  upou 
your  throat  than  you  fall  into  seductive  slumbers,  the 
dreams  of  which  are  so  delightful  that  those  of  the 
opium-eater,  in  comparison,  are  mere  traditions. 

Pardon  me ;  it  is  not  my  purpose  to  advertise  a 
barber  shop,  nor  to  give  you  an  analogy  of  Dudley 
Stewart's  dining-rooms.  They  are,  however,  uni- 
versally known  as  the  "Palace  Dining-Rooms. " 
Why,  I  know  not,  for  they  are  the  reverse  of  the  shop 
in  appearance,  with  diagy  walls,  cob-webbed  ceilings 


and  greasy  floors.  The  only  redeemable  feature  of 
the  place  is  the  way  they  cook  and  serve  ham  there. 

It  is  said  by  those  who  are  in  the  position  to 
know  that  there  is  no  taste,  however  refined,  thai  can 
reject  the  viands  cooked  there  ;  and  this,  no  doubt, 
accounts  for  its  name. 

It  was  the  hour  of  the  evening  meal,  and  a 
delightful  odor  from  a  savory  ham  came  up  from  the 
"Palace  Dining-Rooms,"  which  caused  Ned  to 
remark  : 

"  Som'uns  sure  foolin'  wid  de  cul'nary  art  in  de 
Palace  Joe." 

"  That  is  zprima  facie  fact,  Ned." 

"Come,  now,  whar  you  done  got  dem  big  words?" 

"  I  have  been  to  college,  Ned." 

"Ter  what?" 

"College." 

"  Does  dey  teach  you  ter  cook  dar?" 

"  Not  where  I  went ;  but,  I  am  told,  at  Tuskegee 
and  Hampton  they  do." 

"  Den  I's  gwan  dar  en  take  er  degree.  I  knows 
how  ter  cure  hams  an'  ken  tell  one  ez  fur  ez  I  ken 
smell  it.  Dat  am  er  sugar  cured  one  dat  am  'fumin' 
de  Palace.?' 

"You  are  at  error,  now,  friend.  There  is  no 
such  thing  as  sugar  cured  ham  ;  that's  a  misnomer. 
The  thing  you  are  speaking  of  might  with  as  much 
appropriateness  be  called  an  ice  cured  ham." 


"Go  'long  dar,  nigger;  don't  yer  'spute  my 
word." 

Upon  this  Ned  began  to  walk  the  floor  of  the 
shop  and  to  disclose  his  knowledge  of  hams  vehe- 
mently. This  gathered  a  crowd,  and  the  discussion 
became  general. 

About  this  time  Uncle  Philip,  a  superannuated 
preacher  of  the  Baptist  persuasion,  came  along,  and 
the  loquacious  contestants  submitted  their  contention 
to  him. 

He  accorded  Ned  the  floor,  who  went  on  with  his 
speech,  all  of  which  I  did  not  hear  ;  but  I  remember 
hearing  him  say  there  was  an  affinity  between  salt 
and  sugar.  Continuing,  he  said  : 

"  Ter  prove  ter  yer  de  truth  uv  my  remarks,  yer 
jist  tase  some  salt  an'  some  sugar,  fuss  one  an'  den  de 
odder,  three  or  four  times,  an'  ter  save  yer  life  yer 
can't  tell  which  is  which." 

He  concluded  and  Joe  began  his  learned  remarks, 
which,  because  of  his  college  training,  were  very 
luminous — so  much  so,  that  I  could  not  follow  him 
through  the  ancient  lore  with  which  he  was  pleased 
to  favor  us.  Uncle  Philip,  however,  listened  to  him 
with  as  much  decorum  as  if  he  had  been  the  great 
Blackstone  himself. 

When  they  had  finished,  he,  cognizant  of  the 
propriety  of  judicial  delays,  adjusted  his  spectacles, 
rubbed  his  hands  and  said  : 


"  Gentlemuns,  fur  de  purpose  uy  Vestigatin'  de 
'finity  'twixt  sugar  an'  salt,  I  takes  dis  case  under 
'visement  tell  turmorrowevenin';  meanwhile,  de  court 
would  thank  yer  fur  any  'thority  yer  can  show  on  de 
pints  at  issue." 

So  saying,  the  old  gentleman  retired  with  the 
affinity  between  salt  and  sugar  perplexing  his  simple 
mind. 

Uncle  Phillip's  home  was,  from  this  time  on,  the 
center  of  attraction;  and  on  the  fourth  of  July,  1888, 
it  was  crowded  with  gay  and  mirthful  visitors  who 
had  come  to  hear  his  opinion. 

Some  of  the  ycung  people  made  for  him  a  bench 
out  of  an  old  willow  chair,  which  they  decorated  with 
lace  and  ribbons  and  placed  in  the  middle  of  the  floor. 
He  wore  his  honors  easy  and  was  the  conspicuous 
figure  in  a  little  knot  of  admirers  who  gathered 
around  him  in  another  part  of  the  room.  He  was  a 
fine  old  man.  Many  said  they  never  knew  him  to 
have  looked  better.  The  gray  hair  circling  the  base 
of  his  otherwise  ball  pate,  his  intelligent  appearance, 
the  neatness  of  his  apparel,  together  with  the  spirit 
with  which  he  entered  the  sports  of  the  young, 
marked  him  as  the  venerable  old  man  grown  cour- 
teous with  age. 

Promptly  at  nine  o'clock  he  ascended  the  bench 
and  began  to  hand  down  his  opinion,  which,  as  well 
as  I  can  remember,  was  in  these  words  : 


"Gentlemen,  de  court  wants  to  'gratulate  Brud- 
der  Ned  on  his  fine  'zernment  and  many  pints.  He 
argufies  well;  but  it  takes  salt  ter  save  meat.  How- 
ever, ef  he  had  er  said  'lasses  'stead  uv  sugar,  de 
court  would  be  forced  ter  make  er  dif'rent  rulin'; 
'kase  while  looking  fur  his  'finity  'twixt  salt  an' 
sugar,  de  court  found  dat  by  de  aid  uv  er  little  'lasses 
de  'mount  uv  salt  it  takes  ter  cure  meat  can  be  greatly 
'duced,  de  meatgibben  er  rich,  red  color,  its  sweetness 
creased  and  de  meat  thurlee  cured  in  erbout  three 
hours." 

Then,  stretching  out  one  hand,  as  if  in  blessing, 
and  putting  the  other  over  his  heart  he  said  : 

"  It  pains  me  here  dat  I  has  not  er  fresh  ham 
wid  which  ter  show  yer  de  secret  uv  dis  important 
diskivery." 

This  closed  the  matter,  and  the  company,  with 
the  exception  of  Ned,  retired.  After  the  crowd  had 
gone  he  came  forward  and  pressed  the  old  man  to 
give  him  the  secret  of  "Molasses  Cured  Ham,"  which 
he  consented  to  do  if  Ned  would  secure  him  a  nice, 
fresh  one;  upon  which  he  hurried  home  and  slipped 
in  through  the  unbarred  window,  so  as  not 
to  wake  his  wife,  and  took  a  dollar  from  the  little 
sum  she  had  been  saving  to  purchase  a  mandolin. 
With  this  sum  he  went  directly  to  the  market  place. 
Luckily  for  him,  he  found  the  butcher  in,  cutting 
steak  for  a  few  early  callers.  He  purchased  a  ham, 


and  hurrying  off  with  it,  he  soon  reached  Uncle  Phil- 
lip's home  and  presented  it  to  him  in  triumph.  The 
old  gentleman,  blandly  smiling,  thanked  him,  and 
in  a  smooth  little  speech  praised  his  perseverance; 
after  this  he  covered  the  ham  with  salt ,  poured  over 
it  a  quart  of  molasses,  placed  it  in  a  pan,  and  set  it 
aside,  as  he  said,  ''ter  mellow." 

It  was  now  about  three  o'clock  in  the  morning, 
and  they  retired,  to  dream,  no  doubt,  of  the  highly 
flavored  essence  of  molasses  cured  ham. 

Before  going  to  sleep,  however,  Uncle  Phillip 
called  his  wife  and  said: 

"  'L,izer,  yer'll  find  erham  in  de  dish-pan;  cook  it 
whole  fur  brekfus." 

About  a  half  hour  later  the  good  woman  rose 
and  began  to  prepare  the  ham.  Washing  off  the 
molasses  she  placed  it  in  the  stove  to  bake,  and  sat 
there  watching  and  mopping  it  with  a  sauce  of  salt- 
pepper  and  vinegar. 

The  hours  glided  unobservedly  by  till  the  sun 
brought  up  one  of  those  delightful  mornings,  with  the 
wind  blowing  a  gale  from  southern  fields,  laden  with 
the  melody  of  singing  birds  and  humming  bees,  and 
fragrant  with  the  odor  of  ever- blooming  flowers,  a 
a  morning  full  of  life  and  joyous  concord,  so  much  so, 
that  Aunt  Eliza,  intoxicated  with  its  loveliness  and 
the  ^prospects  of  a  palatable  breakfast,  drifted  una- 


I 


wares  into  its  harmony,  and  went  about  tidying  up 
her  house,  and  singing  : 

"  Swing  low.  sweet  chariot,  comin'  ter  carry  me  home, 
Swing  low,  sweet  chariot,  comin'  ter  carry  me  home." 

Presently  the  crisped  skin  and  delighttul  odor  of 
roasted  pork  reminded  her  that  the  ham  was  done, 
and  after  fixing  everything  for  breakfast  she  arranged 
her  toilet,  which  was  so  prim  and  neat  that  there  was 
nothing  about  it  to  remind  one  of  her  ante  bellum 
rearing,  save  the  bandanna  handerchief  wound  about 
her  head,  from  under  which  a  few  gray  hairs  straying 
along  her  temples  gave  her  a  matronly  appearance 
that  was  graceful. 

This  done  she  went  quietly  to  the  bed,  and  bend- 
ing over  it,  touched  the  parson  and  he  awoke.  Rub- 
bing his  eyes,  he  looked  up  at  her  admiringly.  How 
like  an  angel  she  seemed,  as  ^  sunbeam,  struggling 
through  a  crevice  in  the  wall,  fell  across  her  face. 
Smiling  upon  him,  she  said:  "  I's  got  it  ready 
Phil." 

He  rose,  dressed  himself  hurriedly  and  went  to 
breakfast  with  a  bible  in  his  hands,  from  which  he 
read  the  LJ  Psalm  and  prayed.  Then  they  sat  down 
to  their  morning  meal.  The  flavor  of  the  ham 
sharpened  their  appetites  ;  but  it  was  too  hot  to  eat, 
so  they  sipped  their  coffee  and  waited  for  it  to 'cool, 
laughing  and  talking  the  while  of  other  times  when 
ham  with  them  was  not  a  rarity. 


Meanwhile  Ned's  wife  discovered  her  loss  and 
accused  him  of  its  theft,  which  he  confessed.  To  say 
she  was  angry  is  putting  it  mildly  ;  but  he  quieted 
her  by  telling  her  that  if  he  succeeded  in  learning 
something  new  about  hams,  he  would  be  made  head 
cook  of  the  palace  Dining  Rooms,  with  a  salary  large 
enough  to  buy  her  a  dozen  mandolins  ;  but  he  would 
buyjher  a  new  piano  the  first  thing. 

"My!  What  a  flight  one's  fancy  takes  when  it 
springs  from  the  hopes  of  him  we  love,  and  Ned's 
wife  was  no  exception  to  the  rule,  when  she  caught 
images  of  herself  seated  at  an  upright  piano,  in  a 
corner  of  their  one  room  palace  singing  "Home  sweet 
home." 

She  was  persuaded,  and,  with  her  husband,  she 
walked  over  to  Uncle  Philip's,  Ned  dreaming  of  being 
made  head  cook  of  the  Palace  Dining-Rooms  the 
while  and  she,  queening  it  at  an  upright  piano. 
In  the  midst  of  their  illusion  they  arrived  at  the 
house  of  the  parson  and  rapped  lightly  on  the  door. 
Aunt  Eliza  answered  the  call  and  led  them  back  to 
the  kitchen,  which  served  as  dining-room  also,  where 
the  old  gentleman  was  at  breakfast,  and  upon  which 
he  was  so  absorbed  that  he  had  not  missed  his  wife, 
neither  had  he  observed  her  return  with  the  company; 
but,  thinking  her  still  there,  he  said  : 

"Ah,  'I<izer,  dis  am  rich  !  Yer'll  haf  ter  thank 
dat  youngster's  cur'osity  fur  it." 


II 

Ned's  wife  understood  him  thoroughly,  and, 
giving  Ned  a  pitiless  look  of  scorn,  she  exclaimed  . 

11  Duped  by  dat  villun  !"  and,  springing  toward 
the  table  in  a  fit  of  frenzy,  she  seized  the  ham  and 
threw  it  out  into  the  yard,  where  old  Towser,  the 
house  dog,  lay.  He  grabbed  it  and  ran  off.  Ned 
stammered  out  a  protest,  and  Uncle  Philip  replied  : 

"  Why,  my  son,  yer  never  tuck  me  serious,  did 
yer?" 

It  was  many  a  day  before  Ned  could  look  his 
wife  in  the  face,  and  when  he  did  she  hissed  between 
her  teeth:  "  Molasses  Cured  Ham." 


April  Fool. 


APRIL  FOOL. 


HEN  it  comes  to  fiction,  Ernest  Jones,  of  Estell, 
Mississippi,  is  an  artist  with  decided  advantage 
over  any  one  I  ever  knew.  He  has  clear  conception, 
vivid  imagination,  easy  expression  and  descriptive 
faculties  that  are  wonderful.  In  fact,  he  is  a  genius 
with  great  concentrative  powers.  Perhaps  his  great- 
ness lies  in  his  patience  ;  for  it  is  said  he  never  con- 
siders a  story  complete  till  he  has  gone  over  it  many 
times — fifty  or  more,  perhaps. 

It  was  not  in  the  nature  of  things  for  one  so 
gifted  to  remain  unknown  to  Fame,  although  he 
might  be  spurned  by  Fortune,  and  I  am  but  telling  a 
simple  truth  when  I  say  to  you  he  was  familiarly  and 
favorably  known  to  every  intelligent  person  in  the 
State,  and  that  his  wise  and  witty  sayings  passed 
among  the  common  people  as  proverbs.  I  remember 
with  pleasure  the  force  with  which  one  of  his  quaint 
sayings  struck  me.  It  was  this  :  "  Ignorance  is  not 

15 


i6 

the  source  of  all  misery,  nor  knowledge  the  source  of 
all  joy." 

This  and  many  other  of  his  sayings  interested  me 
to  such  an  extent,  that  I  traveled  five  hundred  miles 
to  see  him  ;  and,  as  I  had  not  the  means  with  which 
to  pay  the  common  carriers  for  my  passage,  I  per- 
formed the  journey  a-foot.  In  common  language, 
tramped  it. 

I  arrived  at  his  home  before  sunrise  April  the 
first,  1870.  I  found  him  at  breakfast.  He  was  an 
old  man,  but  wore  his  seventy  summers  with  that  ease 
and  grace  which  bespoke  him  not  more  than  fifty 
years  of  age.  I  felt  at  ease  under  the  hearty  welcome 
he  gave  me,  and  we  became  friends  on  the  spot. 

His  good  wife  was  a  being  of  loveliness,  who  had 
cultivated  the  virtues  of  hospitality  for  sixty  years, 
and  yet  there  was  not  a  mark  upon  her  features 
to  trace  the  ravages  of  time,  save  the  gray  hairs  that 
strayed  along  her  temples  from  under  her  sun-bonnet. 
Smiling  benignly  upon  me,  her  attention  could  not 
have  been  more  motherly  if  I  had  been  her  only 
son  returned  from  a  long  season  of  prodigality.  While 
I  was  washing  the  dust  from  my  person,  she  prepared 
me  a  daiuty  little  repast  the  President  might  envy. 

You  must  pardon  me  if  I  pause  to  speak  of  that 
breakfast.  How  can  I  forget  the  china  bowl,  with  its 
pure  Jersey  milk,  the  plate  of  honey,  bunch  of  grapes 
and  loaf  of  pure,  sweet  bread  of  that  good  woman's 


own  kneading — all  placed  on  a  table  whose  white 
cover  rivaled  the  beautiful  fabric  of  Irish  damask  ? 
This,  with  an  odorous  bunch  of  violets  in  an  urn  near 
by,  gave  the  place  a  cheerfulness  I  shall  never  forget. 
My  appetite  improved  as  I  ate,  and,  while  I  was  being 
refreshed,  the  old  gentleman  was  preparing  for  my 
further  entertainment  in  a  novel  way.  To  be  brief, 
he  had  arranged  to  show  me  the  lady  of  the  flowers 
at  her  baths. 

My  curiosity  grew  ungovernable  with  the  expec- 
tancy oi  so  fair  a  scene.  I  blush  to  say  so,  but  it  is 
true  ;  and,  since  truth  is  the  essence  of  goodness,  you 
will  excuse  me.  Because  of  the  fervency  of  my  desire, 
the  old  gentleman  led  me  forth  as  soon  as  the  meal 
was  over.  He,  leaning  on  his  cane,  and  I,  walking 
erect,  went  down  a  long  lane,  at  the  end  of  which 
there  ran  a  brook  of  clear,  cold  water,  and  along  its 
border  a  meadow  stretched  out  before  us,  while  to  the 
left  of  the  road  and  somewhat  above  us,  there  stood  a 
water-mill  with  its  large  wheel  turning  slowly  over. 
Here  we  lingered,  listening  to  the  murmuring  water 
falling  among  the  stones  below,  till  he,  all  of  a  sudden, 
raised  his  head  and  said  : 

"  Hush  !  Listen  !  Don't  you  hear  her  bathing 
in  the  mill  pond  ?  See  !  This  is  where  she  unrobed 
herself."  And,  pointing  to  the  earth,  he  showed  me 
where  she,  in  untying  her  apron  strings,  dropped 
daisies  in  the  grass  ;  and  then  to  the  maple  trees, 


i8 

where  she  hung  her  emerald  robes ;  and  further 
on  where,  in  shaking  her  head,  the  dog- wood  blos- 
soms, which  graced  her  hair,  were  scattered  in  the  air. 

Hurriedly  we  ran  to  the  mill  pond  and  gazed 
into  the  placid  water  ;  but  saw  nothing  but  a  school 
of  minnows  that  went  gamboling  on  its  brilliant 
sheen. 

Then  I  turned  and  looked  wistfully  into  the  old 
man's  face,  and  he  cried: 

"April  fool !  I  meant  to  show  you  the  beauty  of 
our  vernal  scenery,  with  the  dew  upon  it !" 


The  l^eminiscenses  of  the  Flask. 


THE   R'EMINISCENSES   OF     THE   FLASK. 


|V|  ANY  years  ago  a  friend  of  mine  gave  me  a  flask 
*•  •••  of  pure  extract  of  grapes.  About  four  o'clock  in 
the  afternoon  of  the  memorable  day  I  placed  the  flask 
on'my  table  ;  and  began  arranging  ray  toilet  for  the 
most  enjoyable  event  of  my  humble  existence.  It 
was  my  wedding  day.  I  was  to  have  led  my  ideal 
woman  to  the  alter,  and  then  gone  onjhrough  life  in 
pursuit  of  happiness. 

Having  dressed  myself.  I  turned  to  my  compan- 
ion, the  flask,  and  found  injit  a  hideous  wine  colored 
serpent.  My  first  impulse  was  to  bruise  its  head, 
and  to  this  end  I  struck  it  several  blows  on  the  neck, 
but  to  no  purpose.  It  grew  to  enormous  proportions, 
coiled  itself  about  my  legs  and  buried  its  deadly 
fangs  into  my  throat.  Thus  entangled  in  the  coils  of 
the  demon  ;  for  such  it  really  was,  I  fell  prostrate  on 
the  floor  of  my  room,*and  lay  there  for  a  long  time  ; 
so  long  that  my  bride  despaired  of  me  and  died 
of  a  broken  heart. 


22 

I  have  made  innumerable  attempts  to  destroy 
that  serpent,  always  with  the  sa-ne  result.  It  still 
lives.  At  last  I  gave  up  to  it.  Then  it  took  up  its 
abode  in  my  raiments,  and  devoured  them.  It  began 
on  my  pantaloons,  and  ate  them  away.  Then  it  at- 
tacked my  coat,  my  hat,  my  vest,  my  shoes  ;  In  short 
everything  I  wore,  but  my  shirt,  this  it  creeped  over 
and  left  [its  slime  upon.  Under  these  depravations 
my  costume  took  on  a  hideous  aspect.  I  became  its 
most  abject  slave  ;  and  its  imperial  excellency 
demanded  of  me  a  most  humiliating  service. 

On  its  great  parade  days  I  had  to  stand  around 
in  conspicuous  places,  dressed  in  the  scraps  of  gar- 
ments upon  which  it  had  made  its  meals  ;  with  my 
shoes  turned  in  opposite  directions,  my  hands  thrust 
into  my  pockets,  my  tattered  coat  hanging  awry 
from  my  shoulders,  my  crownless  hat  pulled  over 
my  eyes,  and  its  envenonud  slime  dripping  from  my 
napped  and  unkept  beard. 

At  one  time  I  was  a  respected  pastor  of  Grand 
Avenue  Church  ;  that  serpent  took  a  liking  to  it,  and 
began  to  gnaw  away  the  pews,  the  floors,  the  walls, 
the  roof,  and  ate  them  all.  Then  it  began  on  my  bi- 
ble and  stopped  not  till  it  had  swallowed  the  sacred 
Scriptures  ;  these  gone,  it  estranged  my  friends.  I 
was  now  left  alone  with  it  and  for  other  compan- 
ions of  whom  you  will  learn  more  as  you  read. 

One    day    I  roamed  about     without  it.     To  my 


23 

great  surprise  I  had  lost  it,  or  rather  it  had  lost 
me.  I  blush  to  say  so  ;  but  it  is  too  true,  I  was  ill  at 
ease,  sorely  troubled  over  my  loss,  believe  me,  long  as 
sociation  with  even  a  viper  makes  its  presence  a 
pleasure  ;  and  its  absence  misery.  I  began  to  search 
for  it.  Here,  there,  everywhere  I  sought  the  ac- 
cursed thing.  I  found  it  at  last  in  a  corner  swallow- 
ing my  pccket-book.  For  this  ingratitude  it  seemed 
ashamed  and  crawled  down  a  crevice  in  scarlet  earth. 

I  returned  to  my  room  and  found  that  the  flask 
had  found  a  voice.  No  sooner  had  I  entered  than  it 
began  to  go  over  its  history,  which  in  many  respects 
resembles  mine.  The  comparison  was  so  identical 
that  I  flew  into  a  passion  and  smashed  it  to  atoms. 
Imagine  my  surprise  to  find  it  serenely  smiling  on 
my  table  a  few  hours  afterward.  I  have  done  many 
things  to  suppress  it ;  filled  it  with  gold  and  threw  it 
into  the  sea  ;  and  many  other  things  equally  as  des- 
tructive ;  and  yet  the  thing  survives. 

I  guess  you  would  call  this  the  survival  of  the 
fittest ;  truly,  to  me,  it  is  the  pre-eminence  of  the 
fUsk.  I  am  ahead  of  my  storv.  I  would  have  you 
hear  the  Reminiscense  of  the  Flask.  It  still  occupies 
its  place  on  my  table  and  yields  to  nothing  but  a 
cork-screw.  Shall  I  draw  the  cork  ?  Your  silence 
consenting  I  draw  it.  This  done  the  flask  began  its 
discourse,  as  follows: 

"Once  upon  a  time  I   took  it  into  my  head  to 


24 

make  a  pilgrimage  of  the  world,  I  wanted  to  do  it  in 
a  way  that  was  novel  and  romantic.  So  I  cut  my 
retinue  down  to  such  a  number,  as  is  consistent  with 
he  times  and  age  in  which  we  live. 

"All  things  decided  on,  I  walked  out  one  fine 
morning  to  take  a  last  view  of  my  early  home  ;  and 
to  say  adieu  to  early  friends.  As  I  walked  along 
Noval  Avenue  I  met  Philip  Debauchee,  Willie  Raw- 
dydaw,  Elbert  Bacchanal  and  Minnie  Chatterbox. 
They  were,  at  the  time,  strangers  to  me  ;  but  being 
congenial  spirits  we  were  soon  fast  friends'  Minnie 
was  the  conversationalist-  of  the  gay  company  ;  and  I 
walked  along  the  Avenue  with  her,  admiring  hei 
gay  and  gaudy  clothing,  airy  manners  and  flights  of 
>vitty  sayings,  of  nonsensical  things. 

I  told  her  of  my  intentions,  and  that  ere  long  I 
would  be  far  away,  on  the  trackless  billows  of  the  re- 
lentless deep.  She  informed  her  companions  of  my 
resolve  ;  and  they  implored  me  to  allow  them  to  ac- 
company me.  I  listened  to  their  importunities  and  it 
is  needless  to  say  they  composed  my  retinue. 

"We  procured  a  nice  little  yacht,  "The  White 
Swan,"  and  renamed  it  Bawanaw  ;  and  after  painting 
it  a  bright  crimson,  we  tore  away  its  white  sails,  and 
replaced  them  with  wine-colored  ones.  We  then 
made  up  a  cargo  of  such  necessaries  as  we  thought  we 
needed,  and  on  the  24th  day  of  February  A.  D.  1872, 


j  WALKED  ALONG  THE  AVENUE  WITH  HER. 


25 

our  little  vessel   sailed  out  to  sea.     The   day  was   a 
beautiful  one  indeed. 

Fair  day  disclosing  sceneries  bright, 
From  early  dawn  till  night  came  on, 
Beaming  upon  my  raptured  sight — 
But  thou  art  gone!  But  thou  art  gone! 

"The  southern  sun  swung  upward  and  touched 
the  gates  of  heaven.  They  stood  ajar  ;  and  I  saw,  or 
fancied  that  I  did,  the  angels  rush  put  to  take  our 
bearings.  They  hovered  on  the  crest  of  a  white  cloud 
which  drifted  over  us,  as  we  cast  about  for  our  course. 
This  found,  they  wafted  us  a  long  farewell  and  swept 
back  to  the  gates  of  heaven.  One  of  them  lingered 
longer  than  the  rest,  and  fixing  an  anxious  look  on 
me,  she  with  her  index  finger  pointed  upward  and 
vanished.  I  knew  her  well,  and  her  memory  haunts 
me  till  this  day.  Who  can  forget  his  mother  ? 

"My  companions  now  saw  that  I  left  the  shore 
with  much  reluctance,  in  spite  of  my  firm  resolve,  so 
they  gave  me  a  wine  colored  beverage,  flavored  with 
mint  and  lemons,  sang  songs  and  played  stringed  in- 
struments, they  said,  to  quiet  my  nerves.  All  of 
which  I  did  not  hear  ;  for  my  heart  was  far  away  in 
the  clouds,  there  near  the  gates  of  heaven,  where  I 
fear  it  will  never  be  again. 

"We  sailed  on.  The  days  grew  into  months, 
and  the  months  into  years ;  but  that  first  day  has 


26 

never  returned.  Occasionally  I  thought  I  caught 
glimpses  of  it  but  it  vanished.  Still  we  sailed  on, 
further  and  further  away  from  the  haven,  on  and  on, 
we  knew  not  where;  till  the  s^a  grew  rough,  the 
winds  raged,  and  the  storms  ruled  the  deep. 

"Our  yacht  lost  its  rudder,  its  anchor,  its  sails 
and  its  masts.  We  now  drifted  in  the  relentless 
waste  of  ocean,  a  wreck.  Then  it  was,  when  we  were 
all  but  famished,  we  drew  our  coats  from  our  backs 
and  held  them  up  to  the  elements  for  drink  ;  as  we 
went  drifting  on  and  on,  under  the  shadow  of  the 
wing  of  death, 

"It  seemed  impossible  for  us  to  sink  ;  for  Da- 
biuchee  by  the  mysterious  cunning  of  the  mariner 
kept  us  afloat,  rottening  on  the  surge  of  the  awful 
deep  ;  but  Minnie,  poor  soul,  fearful  of  the  waves 
that  swept  our  hull  jumped  overboard  and  was  lost. 

"You  must  not  imagine  we  had  all  rough 
weather  ;  for  there  were  some  days  upon  which  there 
fell  over  all  the  sea  a  dead  calm,  and  others  when 
there  was  just  enough  wind  to  make  it  easy  sailing;  it 
was  on  these  days,  that  the  stately  ships  of  the  world 
swept  by  us  with  their  white  sails  all  aswell  with  the 
propelling  breeze  ;  and  the  great  waves  of  the  ocean 
breaking  themselves  on  their  sturdy  prows. 

"You  may  be  su*e  I  wanted  to  go  with  them  ; 
but  when  I  gave  expressions  lo  this  thought,  my  com- 
panions would  taunt  me,  shake  their  heads,  and  say, 


27 

"Ah  poor  fellow!  He  is  wandering,  losing  bis  mind. 
He  knows  not  those  are  phantom  ships,  on  an  imag- 
inary journey."  And  again  they  would  drench  me 
with  the  accursed  beverage. 

"One  day  as  we  lay  in  one  of  those  calms  of 
which  I  told  you,  lamenting  our  loss  of  drink,  I  saw 
a  dark  wave  spread  out  over  the  ocean  lik«  a  cloud. 
I  soon  found  it  to  be  smoke,  rising  from  the  stacks  of 
one  of  those  mighty  ships  from  my  native  land. 
Presently  a  carrier  pigeon  dropped  a  scrap  of  paper  in 
our  wreck  of  a  yacht.  I  sat  gazing  at  the  winged 
thing,  which  took  a  human  form  and  lost  itself 
in  the  distance.  Then  I  turned  me  to  the  message. 
It  waswritten  in  these  characters:  H.  F.  L,. 

I  remembered  them  well ;  long  ago  they  were 
engraven  on  a  gold  ring  which  my  mother  gave 
me  on  my  twenty-first  birthday.  They  mean  hope 
and  faith. 

"That  message  was  from  my  sister;  for  she 
alone  knew  of  the  whereabouts  of  the  ring.  I  fan- 
cied that  she  had  sent  the  ship  to  rescue  me.  It  bore 
down  upon  us,  nearer  and  nearer  it  came,  till  its 
buoy  floated  out  within  a  few  feet  of  us,  then  a  large 
bird,  as  white  as  the  driven  snow,  excep  ing  its  wings, 
which  were  black  as  ebony,  lighted  on  the  buoy  and 
turned  its  eyes  full  on  me.  I  thought  I  saw  written 
on  its  wings  under  a  halo  of  gold  Hope.  This  was 
enough,  my  rescuer  had  come,  I  leaped  into  the  sea 


28 

and  grasping  the  bird  with  one  hand  and  the  buoy 
with  the  other,  I  was  sustained.  The  bird  fluttered 
and  the  buoy  dipped  and  floated,  I  clung  on — 

Just  clung  on  and   floated  with  them, 
O'er  the  endless  trackless  main, 
Till  I  heard  iny  national  anthem, 
Breaking  on  my  ears  again. 

After  many  days  the  grand  ol  Steamer,  Courage, 
for  this  was  its  name,  cast  its  anchor  in  the  port  of 
Reformation.  I  went  ashore  and  walked  across  the 
country  to  this  place.  Imagine  my  unspeakable  sur- 
prise to  find  my  old  companions  of  the  yacht  here 
awaiting  me.  No  sooner  had  I  entered  than  De- 
bauchee began  looking  for  the  serpent  of  which  he 
told  you.  He  found  it  at  last  stuffed  with  his  bible, 
and  the  guilty  thing  to  escape  ran  down  his  throat." 
Here  Debauchee  grew  indignant  ;  thrust  in  the 
stopper  and  the  Flask  stopped. 


The  Voodoo's  Jack. 


THE  VOODOO'S  JACK. 


,AMBO  has  some  queer  ways  ;  and  he  is  slow  in 
his  abandonment  of  old  customs  and  ideas.  I  say 
this  from  personal  knowledge  derived  from'close  and 
intimate  relation  with  him  for  forty  years.  Since  I 
could  remember, and,  I  am  reliably  informed  for  many 
years  before,  the  man  of  mystery  was  the  man  of  hon- 
or with  him!  that  the  vague,  uncertain  and  enigmat- 
ical ccmmands-his  attention.  And  now,  that  I  am 
talking  to  you  of  a  family  secret,  I  am  reminded  of 
my  brother  Bill's  misfortune. 

Perhaps  you  know  my  brother  Bill, 
"Never  saw  him!" 
Then  you  will  enjoy  this  little^story : 
When  I  was  a  boy  corn  husking,  in  the  state  of 
Georgia  was  an  event;  and  we  looked  forward  to  it 
with  delight.     Many  a  time  I  have  seen  four  or  five 
hundred  bushels  of  corn  piled  up  before  the  old  plan- 
tation crib-  with  a  hundred  or  more  men,  big,  black, 
noble  sons  of  Ham,  gathered  around  it  singing  plan- 
tation songs  and  shucking  corn  by  the  light  of  the 


32 

moon,  or  pine  torches,  while  prim  and  tidy  damsels 
were  quilting  in  a  cabin  nearby,  animated  with  the 
commendable  rivalry  of  finishing  the  quilt  before  the 
corn  was  husked.  Ah  me!  how  my  memory  lingers 
around  those  departed  pleasantries;  chief  among 
which  was  the  wrestling  match  after  the  husking. 

Then  we  were  not  bothered  with  hair  culture, 
powdered  faces,  complexion  of  skins,  separate  cars, 
political  economy  and  college  curriculums.  No  sir; 
they  were  no  concern  of  ours,  however  we  had  rules 
and  social  customs  among  ourselves  and  our  fes- 
tivities were,  perhaps,  unexcelled  by  any  known  to 
modern  times.  The  cause  of  this,  I  suppose,  was  due 
to  the  long  stretch  of  toil  between  the  festive  sea- 
sons. Our  holidays  came  like  a  glass  of  water  to 
those  who  cross  the  Sahara  in  caravans,  or  like  a 
crust  of  bread  to  the  s'rauded  mariner  whom  the  sea 
has  cast  ashore. 

I  remember  those  long  excursions  we  used  to  take 
from  one  plantation  to  another,  in  wagons  drawn 
by  cxen.  We  were  as  happy  in  Jhose  as  you 
would  be  in  an  excursion  of  Pullman  ~palace~cars, 
drawn  by  the  finest  locomotive  in  the  land;  and, so  far 
as  brother  Bill  was  concerned,  the  rules  of  a  corn 
husking  were  the  acme  of  civility.  Glorious  times 
those!  I  kinder  liked  them  myself.  But  even  here 
life  had  its  reverses.  Often  we  camped  in  the  vale  of 
sorrow,  while  our  despised  rival  bivouacked  in  the 


33 

sunny  orchards;  where,  the  day  before,  Fancy  pitch- 
ed our  tents.  Envying  them  their  transitory  fortune 
we  often  sought  their  ruin  in  underhanded  ways  and 
schemes  that  were  mean.  It  was  in  one  of  these 
schemes  brother  Bill  had  a  close  call  for  his  life. 

It  happened  in  this  way;  on  a  farm  belonging  to 
Burk  Devons,  about  five  miles  west  of  Jonesborough, 
Georgia,  there  was  once  a  big  corn  huskiog;  and  the 
neighbors  had  come  from  far  and  near  for  an  enjoy- 
able time.  Conspicuous  among  whom  were  brother 
Bill  and  Nancy  Jane  Sweetsom. 

Brother  Bill  was  carriage  driver  for  a  rich  old 
farmer  who  lived  hear,  by  the  name  of  Sherrod  Gay; 
ar.d  Nancy  Jane  Sweetsom  was  house  girl  for  another 
old  farmer  not  far  away.  She  was  a  beautiful  octa- 
roon,  of  agreeable  and  pleasing  ways  and  engaging 
manners;  and  Bill  was  ebon  hued  but  handsome, 
standing  six  feet  three  inches  in  his  socks.  He 
was  an  imposing  figure  when  dressed  iu  his  fine 
clothes  of  home-made  jeans,  and  basking  in  the  sun- 
shine of  Nancy  Jane  Sweetsom's  smiles. 

On  this  particular  occasion  Bill  and  Ben  Buster 
were  selected  captains  of  the  husking;  and,  as  was 
usual,  a  line  was  drawn  taut  across  the  center  of  the 
corn  pile  and  the  number  of  men  divided  equally, 
one-half  of  them  going  with  Bill  and  the  other  going 
with  Buster. 

The  husking  began,  each  side  striving  to  shuck 


34 

their  half  of  the  corn  before  the  other.  Immediately 
after  the  husking  the  captains  were  to  wrestle;  and 
the  one  that  threw  the  other,  the  "  best  two  out  of 
three,  "  was  to  have  the  exclusive  company  of  the 
prettiest  girl  at  the  husking  that  night. 

The  husking  was  but  the  work  of  an  hour,  and 
then  the  wrestling  came  and  held  the  crowd  spell- 
bound and  speechless  until  expression  broke  into  ap- 
plause for  the  victor.  Now,  Buster  was  as  much  in 
love  with  Nancy  Jane  Sweetsom  as  Bill.  And  she, 
true  to  the  proclivities  of  her  sex,  encouraged  them 
both. 

They  were  masters  of  the  wrestling  art.  Buster 
was  not  as  large  as  my  brotner  and  not  near  so  tall, 
but  he  had  broad,  massive  shoulders  which  were 
a  little  round  and  gave  him  the  appearance  of  stoop- 
ing as  he  moved  about.  He  was  five  feet  five  inches 
high,  weighed  one  hundred  and  ninety  pounds,  and 
was  something  of  a  giant  himself. 

You  may  be  sure  the  battle  was  a  royal  one;  for 
more  than  an  hour  they  tugged  away  at  each  other; 
but  Buster  being  lower  than  my  brother,  brought  his 
mighty  shoulders  into  play,  and  won. 

Then  Bill,  humiliated  and  sad,  skulked  away  to 
and  adjoining  farm.  There  he  met  uncle  Jery  Wiser 
and  told  him  his  tale  of  woe.  Now,  uncle  Jerry  was 
the  man  of  mystery  in  that  community;  or  in  planta- 
tion parlance,  a  conjurer,  and  to  him  brother  prayed 


35 

expectingly  for  relief;  and  the  old  gentleman  promis- 
ed him  all  he  prayed  for.  What  is  it  tne  man  of 
mystery  will  not  promise  ?  There  is  not  an  ill 
the  body  is  heir  to  he  cannot  cure;  and  in  the  affairs 
of  the  heart,  his  jack  is  all  powerful.  It  would 
not  only  protect  him  from  the  designs  of  evil  men,  but 
it  would  enable  him  to  go  unharmed  among  the  most 
ferocious  animals,  and  to  hold  in  his  hands  the  most 
poisonous  serpents  or  reptiles.  These  were  the  gen- 
eral powers  of  the  jack;  but  when  made  to  order,  he 
usually  added  any  special  powers  his  patrons  might 
desire.  Bill  wanted  a  jack,  of  course.  A  master  one, 
with  all  the  general  powers  and  a  number  of  special- 
ties. To  secure  these  he  had  to  take  the  man  of  mys- 
tery the  following  ingredients,  to-wit: 

"  A  lock  of  hair  from  the  north  side  of  Buster's 
head. 

"  A  piece  of  nail  off  the  east  side  of  his  little  toe. 

"  A  piece  of  nail  off  the  west  side  of  his  great 
toe.  All  died  in  the  blood  drawn  from  the  left  side  of 
Buster." 

For  a  long  time  I  was  curious  to  know  how  Bill 
ever  found  these  pirts  of  Busfer's  person;  but  lately 
I  have  been  told  by  the  authority  of  mystification  in 
these  diggings,  "  Dinah,  the  sauceress,"  that  all  Bill 
had  to  do  was  to  catch  Buster  prone  upon  the  earth 
with  his  head  toward  the  north,  and  the  cardinal 
points  of  his  person  would  appear. 


36 

At  last  Bill  turned  up  at  uncle  Jerry's  with  the 
required  ingredients,  and  wis  soon  invested  with  his 
JACK.  Thus  equipped  the  man  of  mystery  told  him 
to  catch  a  black  snake,  skin  it  alive,  tie  the  hide 
around  his  body,  and  he  would  be  thereby  enabled 
to  fling  any  body  in  "ole  Georgy  dat  didn't  have  a 
longer  hide  uv  a  similur  snake  den  hizself ."  Of  couse 
uncle  Jerry  thought  Bill  would  never  catch  the  snake 
and  thus  he  would  have  an  excuse  for  the  nonper- 
formance  of  his  jack. 

Jack  in  hand,  Bill  began  at  once  to  look  for  his 
snake,  and  with  a  singleness  of  purpose  that  was 
commendable,  he  never  lost  an  opportunity  of  look- 
ing into  brier  patches  and  out  of  the  way  places,  in 
short,  every  where  fancy  suggested  a  black  snake 
might  be  found.  At  last  on  a  sultry  summer  even- 
ing he  met  with  unusual  success  with  his  search. 

It  was  June  i,  1870.  They  had  passed  out  of 
Jonesborough,  over  Flint  river,  up  the  big  hill  that 
forms  its  western  bank,  and  were  jogging  along  the 
dusty  highway,  when  suddenly  Mr.  St.  Clair  met 
them  in  a  bend  of  the  road,  and  bantered  Mr.  Gay, 
Bill's  boss,  for  a  horse  trade.  While  the  two  men 
were  discussing  the  points  of  interest  in  their  horses, 
Bill  got  down  from  his  seat  in  the  buggy  and  began 
to  eat  a  few  of  the  black-berries,  that  were  bursting 
of  sweetness  in  a  patch  near  the  road.  While  thus 


37 

engaged,  the  cracker  of  the  whip  he  carried  got  fasten- 
ed to  a  big  brass  button  of  his  coat. 

The  bargain  was  struck  between  the  two  farmers 
and  they  drove  off  down  the  road  to  Mr.  St.  Clair's. 
Mr.  Gay,  appreciating  Bill's  weakness  for  the  fruit  of 
the  brier,  said  to  him,  "  Bill,  I  will  drive  on  and 
wait  for  you  at  Mr.  St.  Clair's.  Help  yourself  to  the 
berries,"  "Thank  ye,  Boss,  I's  sure  gwin  ter  do 
dat." 

Presently  the  two  men  passed  from  view  and  left 
Bill  to  his  feast.  He  was  now  pretty  full  and  stopped 
to  wipe  the  perspiration  from  his  face,  when  to  his 
great  delight,  there  lay  before  him  the  object  of  his 
long  search,  the  snake,  in  a  persimmon  bush  just  a 
few  feet  away,  charming  a  blue  bird.  Relying  on  his 
faithful  jack,  he  began  at  once  to  approach  the  snake, 
and  the  snake  intent  on  catching  the  bird,  paid  little 
attention  to  him.  The  snake,  however,  was  one  of 
those  combative  kind  known  am  mg  us  Negroes,  as 
"  De  coach  whip."  A  long,  keen,  blue  black  fellow 
that  ties  himself  around  your  ankles  and  whips  you  to 
death. 

Bill  was  after  that  snake  and  the  snake  was  after 
its  prey  ;  and,  just  as  he  lunged  for  it,  the  snake 
leaped  for  the  bird,  missed  it  and  fell,  to  use  Bill's 
words,  "curwollop  between  his  feet." 

There  was  surprise  in  the  brier  patch  and  a  hasty 
getting  away.  The  bird  flew  to  a  neighboring  tree 


38 

and  warbled  a  song  of  joy  ;  the  snake  did  as  all  wise 
seipants  do.  Bill  ran  for  dear  life  and  somehow  found 
his  way  to  the  public  road,  and  was  limbering  along 
leisurely  when  he  looked  back  and  saw  the  whip 
dangling  behind,  and  mistook  it  for  the  snake. 

Then  it  was  he  reached  up  and  got  his  hat,  and 
leveled  down  to  it.  My!  what  a  race.  The  whip, 
flying  up  and  striking  him  occasionally  behind,  gave 
him  energy  and  he  flew.  Crazed,  he  ran  into  Mr.  St. 
Clair's  drawing-room  yelling,  "  Snake!  snake!  snake! 
Take  it  off  !  Take  it  off  !"  and  fell  sprawling  to  the 
floor. 

Then  Mr.  Gay  stooped  down  and  untied  the 
cracker  of  the  whip,  and  Bill  realized  what  had  hap- 
pened ;  but  he  swears  the  snake  was  after  him. 


A  Mad  Man's  Love  Affairs. 


A  MAD  MAN'S  LOVE  AFFAIRS. 


I  IN  the  3ist  day  of  December,  A.  D.  1880,  there 
^^  was  organized,  in  the  little  town  of  Elm  wood, 
"  The  Story  Tellers'  Circle."  This  association  was  a 
rare  and  unique  thing,  with  the  pleasure  of  its  mem- 
bers as  its  only  object.  It  had  a  few  simple  rules, 
which  were  rigidly  enforced.  So  congenial  were  its 
members,  however,  that  they  bore  the  penalty  of 
broken  laws  without  a  protest. 

I  remember  one  rule  that  was  invariably  broken, 
by  most  of  us.  That  rule  required  one  of  us  to  com- 
mence, on  the  evening  of  December  3ist,  and  tell  an 
original  story  ;  and  to  tell  it  so  well  that  none  of  us 
should  fall  asleep  during  its  narration.  The  story 
was  to  close  at  midnight.  Upon  its  conclusion  there 
was  always  spread  a  supper,  for  which  the  story-teller 
had  to  pay  should  he  fail  to  keep  us  awake. 

Each  of  us  had  paid  the  forfeit  of  a  dull  story.  I 
should  have  said,  all  of  us  had  failed  but  Bill  Sim- 
mons, for  the  lot  had  never  fell  upon  him.  December 


42 

31,  1895,  marked  the  close  of  an  unusually  joyous 
Christmas  tide.  We  were  in  the  club-room  and  the 
roll  was  being  calkd,  to  which  all  of  us  answered 
promptly,  "  Here." 

After  this  the  lot  was  cast,  and  it  fell  on  Bill  Sim- 
mons. He  was  by  no  means  a  talkative  man,  and 
there  was  not  a  scintilla  of  humor  in  his  nature.  No 
one  expected  a  story  of  him,  and  so  we  prepared  to 
make  merry  at  his  expense.  Hence,  we  fell  to  dis- 
cussing the  bill  of  fare,  and,  after  a  half  dczen  points 
of  order  and  as  many  ballots,  we  succeeded  in  making 
this  selec.ion  :  Seven  loaves  of  bread,  ten  dozen 
oysters,  ten  broiled  quail,  salt,  pepper  and  pickles, 
and  a  few  other  little  necessaries,  such  as  wine, 
whiskey  atd  cigars.  Of  these  we  ordered  twelve 
quarts  of  wine,  three  gallons  of  old  Bourbon  and  a 
hundred  cigars.  The  reason  for  this  is  obvious  ;  we 
wanted  to  possess  our  spirits  with  diligence.  There 
were  ten  of  us,  and,  with  the  exception  of  Bill  Sim- 
mons, a  merrier  ten  never  entered  a  club-room. 

At  8  o'clock  the  gavel  fell,  and  the  president 
said:  "  Gentlemen,  you  will  please  come  to  order. 
What  is  your  pleasure  to-night?"  "  Regular  order," 
was  the  demand.  Again  the  gavel  fell,  and  Mr. 
Simmons  was  ordered  to  deliver  his  story.  He  took 
his  seat  on  the  grand-stand,  and  we  held  our  breath, 
while  the  comical  obliquity  of  our  features  betrayed 
our  feelings. 


43 

Said  he:  "  Mr.  President  and  brethren,  for  the 
want  of  a  better  story,  I  present  to  you  a  Mad  Man's 
IvOve  Affairs. 

You  all  remember  my  old  friend,  George  Dobey  ? 
He  was  a  singular  character;  and  his  career  was 
eventful.  A  few  days  ago  I  passed  his  tomb  and 
found  written  thereon:  "Here  lies  George  Dobey, 
the  story  teller,  who  never  but  once  designedly  told 
the  truth."  To  see  the  good  name  of  my  friend  so 
foully  besmirched  vexed  me,  and  I  then  and  there 
determined  to  give  the  world  his  true  biography. 
Having  so  decided,  I  began  at  once  to  look  for  the 
incidents  of  interest  in  bis  life,  and  after  a  long  and 
vexatious  search  I  was  able  to  find  nothing  authentic 
but  the  marble  slab  at  his  grave,  and  its  strange  in- 
scription. Too  true  it  is  that  our  lives  are  as  transi- 
tory as  the  fall  of  snow  flakes,  and  that  memory's 
tablets  are  broken  while  they  are  being  formed. 

Nevertheless,  I  was  resolute,  and  with  the  aid  of 
my  memory  began  my  self  imposed  task  by  writing 
in  bold  letters  on  a  sheet  of  Fools'  cap  paper  "George 
Dobey."  To  save  my  life  I  cound  not  think  of  an- 
other word. 

"  Your  Fancy  !"  cried  many  of  us. 

"  I  have  none,"  said  Simmons.  I  can  deal  only 
in  cold  facts  and  truth;  and  it  you  will  listen,  these 
you  shall  hear. 


44 

In  the  midst  of  my  dilemma,  I  heard  a  gnawing 
in  a  corner  of  the  room,  and  walking  over  to  whence 
it  came,  I  kicked  an  old  valice,  when  out  there  ran  a 
mouse  and  dropped  a  scrap  of  paper.  I  looked  at  it 
and  saw  written  thereon,  "George  Dobey."  I 
opened  the  valise  and  found  a  bundle  of  old  papers 
labeled,  "  Facts  about  George  Dobey;"  eagerly  I  be- 
gan to  investigate  its  contents. 

The  first  thing  I  found  was  a  letter  addressed  to 
my  brother  Joe.  I  held  it  up  to  the  light  and  read 
the  post  mark. 

The  ragged  edge  of  the  envelope  told  how 
eagerly  it  had  been  opened.  With  no  less  anxiety, 
I  drew  out  the  letter  and  read  what  follows: 

No.  17  Ivory  Street;  \ 
ATLANTA,  GA.,      J 
May  loth,  1890. 

MR.  JOE.  SIMMONS, 

Stoneville,  Miss. 
DEAR  FRIEND: 

To-day  while  on  my  return  to  Atlanta,  I  met  with 
a  sad  but  thrilling  incident.  Just  as  I  turned  into  tte 
high  road  which  passes  through  East  Point  to  At- 
lanta, I  saw  a  run-a-way  horse  hitched  to  a  buggy,  in 
which  a  woman  sat  holding  on  bravely  to  the  reins, 
in  the  vain  effort  to  stop  the  frantic  animal,  which 
came  on  at  a  frightful  speed. 


45 

In  less  time  than  it  takes  to  tell  it,  the  buggy 
was  thrown  against  a  tree  and  one  of  its  wheels 
knocked  off.  Then  she  became  frightened  and  in  her 
terror,  grabbed  the  dash-boa'rd.  By  this  time  I  had 
gotten  out  of  my  buggy  and  was  trying  to  stop  the 
mad  horse.  He  turned  abruptly  to  the  left,  and  the 
front  part  of  the  vehicle  struck  a  stump  and  was 
broken  from  its  shafts. 

The  woman  was  thrown  to  the  earth,  her  left 
wrist  being  dislocated  and  her  right  side  severely 
bruised.  The  horse  ran  a  few  paces  further  and 
stopped  of  its  own  accord.  About  this  time  a  man 
came  to  my  assistance.  We  lifted  the  lady  into  my 
buggy,  and  he  took  charge  of  the  horse.  I  then 
drove  off  toward  East  Point. 

About  a  mile  down  the  road,  whence  came  the 
horse,  we  came  across  a  man,  by  the  wayside,  ap- 
parently insane.  The  lady  told  me  he  was  her  affi- 
anced friend,  that  he  was  with  her  when  the  horse  ran 
away  from  him;  and  at  that  time  he  was  pefectly  sane. 

I  managed  to  get  them  back  to  East  Point,  where 
a  physician  was  called  in  and  they  are  now  being 
cared  for.  The  lady  will  recover  but  the  man/never. 
Believe  me,  these  unfortunate  people  are  none  other 
than  George  Dobey  and  the  woman  you  were  to  have 
married  seventeen  months  ago. 

Sincerely  I  am  yours, 

TOM  SMITH. 


46 

I  was  now  in  the  middle  of  a  mad  man's  love 
affairs,  and  I  determined  to  know  all.  To  this  end  I 
examined  minutely  every  paper  in  that  valise.  There 
were  a  great  many,  but  I  shall  call  attention  to  only  a 
few  of  them  here.  There  was  a  letter  from  a  lady,  in 
answer  to  one  from  Joe,  which,  excepting  the  head- 
ing, read  as  follows  : 

"DEAR  FRIEND— Your  letter  calls  up  the  ioys  of 
long  ago.  When  there  is  no  hope  of  a  better  to-mor- 
row, how  readily  we  turn  from  the  adversities  of 
to-day  to  the  felicities  of  yesterday  ;  and  ware  it  not 
for  the  bitter  fate  that  foiled  our  hop?,  the  recollections 
of  a  day  that  is  gone  would  be  a  j  y  forever. 

"  Btlieve  me,  there  has  not  been  a  day  since 
our  betrothal  in  which  my  heart  has  not  been  wholly 
yours,  unalterably  so  ;  and  jet  I  fear  I  am  so  envir- 
oned as  to  make  it  impossible  for  me  to  grant  your 
request.  The  morning  after  that  awful  night  I  went 
to  Vicksburg  to  be  with  you  in  your  illness.  I 
found  you  uncon'cious,  and  the  doctors  and  Mr. 
Dobey  insisted  on  my  returning  to  Stoneville,  which 
I  did  that  night. 

"  Toe  next  day  Mr.  Dabey  handed  me  the  Daily 
Item,  a  paper  published  in  Vicksburg,  in  which  was 
written  this  announcement:  'Mr.  Joe  Simmons,  of 
Stoneville,  Miss.,  died  last  night  at  the  City  Hospital. 
His  death  marks  the  close  of  a  bright,  joyous  and 
exemplary  life.  A.  host  of  friends  mourn  his  loss, 


47 

and  we  sympathetically  join  them  in  their  bereave- 
ment. He  will  be  buried  this  morning  at  n  o'clock, 
from  St.  Andrew's  church.' 

"  Life  was  now  a  burden,  and  I  had  no  desire  to 
bear  it  at  Stoneville  ;  so  the  day  after  the  cruel  pub- 
lication I  found  myself  fleeing  from  the  scenes  of  my 
sorrows  in  a  widow's  garb,  and  in  due  course  of  travel 
I  arrived  here  and  took  up  my  abode  with  my  aunt. 
Some  time  after  I  arrived  at  my  aunt's,  Mr.  Dobey 
became  a  suitor  for  my  favor,  and  I,  thinking  you 
were  dead,  gave  my  consent ;  but  before  the  day  fixed 
for  the  wedding  he  became  insane,  and  has  since 
been  in  an  asylum.  He  is  much  better  now,  and  the 
doctors  say  that  if  they  could  restore  his  memory  of 
persons,  they  should  pronounce  him  well.  He  fan- 
cies that  he  has  killed  a  man,  and,  strange  to  say, 
his  dead  man  is  yourself. 

"He  has  lucid  intervals,  however,  and  since 
hearing  from  you  I  have  been  thinking  of  securing  a 
release.  I  would  like  to  have  you  go  with  me  ;  may 
be  your  presence  would  revive  his  memory  and  put 
him  on  the  road  to  speedy  recovery.  Will  you  go? 

"  Hoping  you  will  accommodate  me,  I  beg  leave 
to  subscribe  myself, 

"Yours  faithfully, 

"  ELLEN  GLENN." 

Of  course,  Joe  went  to  see  her.  They  met  in 
Atlanta,  and  went  directly  to  the  asylum.  There 


48 

they  learned  that  Dobey  was  much  better  and  recov- 
ering rapidly.  The  physicians  said  :  "We  have  been 
thinking  of  taking  him  over  the  old  scene  with  Miss 
Glenn,  in  the  hope  of  restoring  his  memory  of  her. 
We  hopa  Miss  Glenn  will  consent  to  this?" 

"Certainly,"  said  Ellen,  and  the  doctors  began 
to  discuss  their  plans  with  her.  While  they  weie 
thus  engaged  Joe  went  up  to  see  Dobey.  He  found 
him  reading  an  old  manuscript,  which  he  had  written 
during  his  better  days.  He  was  then  seemingly  sane. 
He  received  Joe  in  the  most  cordial  manner,  and  they 
were  soon  engaged  in  a  pleasant  conversation,  which 
lasted  quite  a  while.  Presently,  howtver,  Joe  rose  to 
leave,  and  Dobey,  rising  nlso,  caught  him  socially  by 
the  lappel  of  the  coat  and  said  : 

"  During  my  little  talk  I  have  learned  to  like 
you.  You  resemble  some  one  I  knew  years  ago,  but 
I  just  can't  remember."  Joe  wis  silent,  and  he  kept 
on,  as  if  talking  to  himself :  "  You  a-r-e,  're,  're — I 
can't  recollect.  I  guess  I  don't  know  you,  but  I  like 
you  and  would  intrust  to  you  my  treasure." 

Joe  j-uppre^sed  his  surprise  with  a  smile,  as  Dobey 
began  wrapping  the  treasure  in  an  ancient  newspaper. 
After  which  he  held  it  out  to  him,  saying  as  he 
did  so  :" 

"  You  will  bring  it  back  to  me  occasionally?" 

"Certainly,"  said  Joe,  pi  icing  it  in  his  inner 
pocket.  Then  Dobey  raised  his  head  and  their  eyes 


49 

met,  but  he  knew  not  his  rival.  They  shook  hands 
and  parted. 

Joe  returned  to  the  office  and  found  the  plans  all 
arranged  for  the  trip,  which  were  the  reproduction  of 
some  of  the  scenes  through  which  Dobey  and  Ellen 
had  passed  on  May  roth,  1890,  the  time  fixed  for 
which  was  the  next  day.  Ellen,  refusing  every 
attempt  of  Joe's  to  renew  their  former  relations,  till 
after  the  trip,  returned  to  her  Aunt's  andjjoe  to  his 
ho'el. 

After  supper  Joe  went  to  his  room  and  began  to 
inspect  Dobey's  treasure,  which  was  simply  a  diary 
giving  in  detail  every  incident  of  his  life,  from  his 
majority  down  to  May  zoth.  1890.  Reread  along 
carelessly  till  his  eyes  fell  on  the  date,  Decembs  3ist, 
1889,  and  curiously  through  the  remainder  of  the 
diary,  of  which  the  following  is  an  extract:"1 

*'It  was  December  3ist,  1889.  The  wi^d  was 
soughing  through  the  electric  wires  overhead,  and 
occasional  flakes  of  snow  fluttered  down  from  the 
clouds  which  hung  above,  as  if  they  were  the  mantles 
of  the  storm  waiting  to  be  shook  by  the  Monarch  of 
the  elements. 

"  Such  was  nature's  sombreness  on  that  eventful 
night;  I  was  in  Vicksburg,  standing  in  the  doorway  of 
one  of  its  mammoth  piles  of  architectural  beautv, 
amusing  myself  with  the  faces  that  passed  and  the 
stories  they  told  unawares. 


50 

"  In  the  midst  of  my  amusement  I  looked  up, 
and  who  should  I  see  but  Joe  Simmons,  Bill  Prior 
and  Tom  Smith.  They  gave  me  a  friendly  shake  of 
the  hand  and  passed  into  the  edifice  where  I  was 
standing,  which  I  then  found  to  be  a  saloon,  behind 
the  gaudy  screens  of  which  I  heard  the  click  of  the 
glasses  and  saw  the  smooth  and  oily  liquor  moving 
and  sparkling  therein. 

"  That  you  may  not  think  me  one  of  those  litee 
fellows,  who  take  their  wine  in  secret,  and  display 
their  degredation  from  the  open  door  of  the  gutter,  I 
make  this  confession :  I  went  into  the  saloon  and  sat- 
isfied my  convivial  propensities  by  partaking  of  the 
hospitalities  of  those  among  whom  I  found  myself. 

"  After  the  drinks,  Tom  took  me  aside  and  gave 
me  a  little  sketch  of  the  social  world.  Said  be:  '  Joe 
is  a  groom;  I  am  his  best  man,  and  to-morrow  is  the 
day  of  the  nuptials.'  At  which  I,  arching  mv  brows 
and  twisting  my  mustache,  said:  'Ah,  indeed  !  Surely 
a  man  might  well  be  jovial  on  his  wedding  day,  set; 
and  turning  to  the  bar-tender,  I  ordered  wine,  whiskey 
and  cigars.  While  these  were  being  prepared,  I  asked 
Tom  who  the  prospective  bride  might  be.  He  pu-h^d 
back  his  coatsleeve  and  wrote  on  his  cuff  the  initials, 
'E  G.,  of  Stoneville.'  My  what  a  revelation!  It 
was  to  this  woman  my  he^rt  hid  surrendered  its  soul. 
Unknown  to  her,  it  is  trui,  but  noae  th>;  less  so,  I 
loved  her,  and  the  consuming  fire  of  that  passion  now 


went  darting  through  my  being  like  an  electric  bolt. 

"I  stood  there  a  moment  in  suspense,  stirring 
iny  wine  and  imploring  the  devil  to  give  me  a  device 
to  foil  the  wedding,  which  he  did  instantly.  This 
was  the  place,  the  time,  and  the  means  were  at  my 
command.  I  took  advantage  of  them,  and  held  the 
flask  to  their  lips  till  a  late  hour. 

"  I  knew  they  were  to  leave  for  Stoneville  on  the 
late  train,  so  at  n  o'clock  I  left  them  carousing  in 
the  saloon  and  went  to  my  room.  Here  I  disguised 
myself,  and,  an  hour  later  left  for  the  station — a 
typical  Southern  Negro  of  ante-bellum  times,  with  a 
faded  umbrella  stretched  between  me  and  the  inclem- 
ent weather,  and  a1*  dilapidated  carpet-bag  swinging 
from  my  left  hand. 

"Thus  attired,  I  arrived  at  the  station  within  a 
few  minutes  of  train  time.  Pretty  soon  my  friends 
came,  and  Tom  called  out: 

"  *  Tickets  for  three  to  Stoneville." 

"  Then  I  shied  up  to  the  window  and  said: 

"  '  Boss,  gimme  er  ticket  ter  de  same  place, 
please,  sah.' 

"  '  Well,  old  man,  where  is  that  ?"  said  the  agent. 

"  '  It  am  de  same  place  dese  gents  am  gwine,  sah.' 

•'  He  then  threw  down  the  ticket  and  I  handed 
him  the  change. 

By  this  time  the  train  came  steaming  in  we 
got  aboard,  and  were  soon  flying  towards  the  north. 


52 

But  I  am  ahead  of  my  story;  for  while  we  ware 
boarding  the  cars,  I  slipped  my  hani  into  Joe's  pocket 
and  filched  his  ticket.  Why  I  dis^uis^d  myself, 
and  why  I  stole  the  ticket,  I  know  not,  unless  it  be 
that  the  hand  of  the  Spirit  of  darkness,  leads  his  vo- 
taries as  deter cnidly  as  does  that  "  Divinity  which 
shapes  our  ends." 

Tom  and  Bill  passe  i  into  tha  ladies  car,  Joe  into 
the  smoker,  and  I  followed  him.  Presently  th-  c  in- 
ductor entered  and  began  to  take  up  tickets  He 
reached  me  first  and  said  in  a  playful  wiy:  "Well 
old  man,  whar  am  yer  gwine  ?"  Hadding  him  mv 
ticket,  I  said:  "  Dat  tells  de  tale."  H-tookita,,d 
passed  on  to  Joe,  and  said:  "Tickets."  Joa  felt  in 
his  v  st  pocket  for  his  ticket,  but  it  was  not  there; 
then  hurriedly  he  felt  for  it  in  the  other  pockets  of  his 
apparel,  but  found  it  not.  I  sat  puffing  away  at  my 
"corncob"  pipe  contentedly,  and  enjoying  the  con- 
fusion of  my  rival. 

The  conductor  said:  "  Take  your  time,  sir,  and 
find  your  ticket  by  the  tim<j  I  return,"  and  passed  on. 
After  awhile  became  back  and  still  Joe  had  not  found 
his  ticket.  Then  the  conductor  pulled  the  bell  cord 
and  the  train  stopped.  Whereupon,  aided  by  the 
porter,  he  led  Toe  to  the  door  and  helped  him  out  into 
the  cold  and  bitter  night.  I  got  off  on  the  other  side 
and  the  train  passed  on. 

We  were  now  alone,  There  was  no  moon,  no  stars, 


53 

no  light,  nor  sound  of  anything  save  the  stealthy  tread 
of  the  snow  climbing  down  the  frosty  air.  Here  was 
an  opportunity.  I  paused  a  moment  listening  to  the 
hitherto  unknown  spirit  of  my  being,  whose  persuas- 
ive eloquence  urged  me  to  deeds  of  violence. 

Had  I  not  a  motive  ?  When  did  love  endure  a 
rival  ?  Where  is  the  man  who  dares  not  stake  all  on 
the  woman  of  his  affections?  If  any  such  there  is  he 
is  unworthy  that  Divine  thought  which  evolved  it- 
self into  a  woman.  The  ideal  woman!  Oh,  thou 
admirable,  adorable  being,  with  thee  how  sublime  is 
man,  without  thee  what  a  wreck  he  is.  Thus  the 
demon  persuaded  me  as  I  went  groping  through  the 
darkness  in  quest  of  him,  my  soul  abhorred.  Pres- 
ently I  heard  him  treading  in  the  snow,  and  instantly 
I  reached  for  my  revolver.  On  he  came,  reeling 
through  the  darkness  like  a  lost  soul  from  the  bot- 
tomless pit.  There  was  steel  in  my  nerves,  and  my 
heart  burned  like  molted  iron.  I  was  prepared.  On 
he  came,  till  suddenly  the  clouds  parted,  and  the 
stars  glinted  on  their  towering  thunder-heads,  the 
moon  peeped  at  me  over  the  trees — all  glaring  as  if 
they  were  the  eyes  of  the  infinite  God,  while  the 
angel  of  peace  took  the  record  of  my  wicked  thoughts, 
or  so  it  seemed. 

Still  he  came  on,  and  turning  his  haggard  face 
up  into  mine,  with  his  peculiar  innocence,  said: 

"  Hallo,  niger!  What  are  you  doing  out  tonight?" 


54 

"  Been  ter  watch,  meetin',  sah." 

"  Where  is  your  church  ?" 

"  Er  bout  three  miles  down  de  road,  sah." 

"  Is  there  not  a  house  near  than  that  ?" 

"  Yes  sah,  'bout  er  mile  'cross  de  woods." 

"  It  freezes!   Take  me  to  a  fire." 

"  Alright  boss,  diser  way,  sah." 

So  saying,  I  took  him  by  the  hand  and  started 
off  through  the  woods,  where,  I  knew  not.  After 
wandering  about  for  a  long  time  we  came  back  to  the 
railroad  where  it  intersects  the  country  road.  Here 
we  found  a  shed  and  a  cotton  seed  house  with  an 
open  gable.  I  climbed  into  it  and  buried  myself  in 
the  warm  seeds.  Joe  tried  to  follow  me  but  he  was 
too  drunk.  He  simply  fell  back  to  the  shed  floor, 
with  a  thud. 

Again,  that  demon  entered  my  soul  and  urged 
me  to  violence.  He  whispered,  "by  aiding  the  ele- 
ments a  little  the  frost  will  do  for  you  what  you  have 
not  the  heart  to  do  for  yourself."  I  went  back  to 
him,  slipped  his  ticket  into  his  pocket,  and  gave  him 
more  whiskey.  After  he  had  drank,  I,  pretending  to 
be  helping  him  into  the  seed  house,  pulled  his  coat 
off.  This  done,  I  era  -.'led  back  into  my  den  like  a 
wild  beast  to  his  lair,  and  began  meditating  upon  the 
"  survival  of  the  fittest." 

In  a  short  while,  a  glaring  light  fell  along  the 
snow,  the  ringing  of  a  bell  and  escaping  air  and  steam 


55 

reminded  me  that  the  south-bound  express  had 
stopped.  Several  persons  got  off  the  cars,  with  whom 
were  Tom  and  Bill  with  lanterns.  They  began  at 
once  to  look  around  as  if  searching  for  lost  treasures. 
Pretty  soon  they  found  Joe,  and  gave  a  shout  of  joy. 
Walking  up  to  him  they  pulled  him  by  the  shoulder, 
in  the  vain  effort  to  wake  him.  Failing  in  this,  Tom 
raised  himself  to  his  full  height,  with  a  stare  of  un- 
utterable horror,  and  said:  "He  is  dead!!'  There 
he  lay  upon  the  shed  floor,  with  his  ticket  clinched 
in  his  hand  and  the  froth  upon  his  lips,  the  victim  of 
a  social  drink. 

Then  a  physician  whom  they  had  engaged  placed 
the  faithful  sphygmograph  upon  his  wrist  and  its  un- 
erring register  indicated  that  he  still  lived.  They 
placed  him  upon  the  cars  and  were  soon  flying  away 
toward  Vicksburg. 

The  next  day  I  returned,  and  that  afternoon 
Ellen  came.  Together  we  went  to  see  Joe,  and  found 
him  still  alive,  but  seriously  ill.  The  physician  ad- 
mitted none  to  remain  with  him  but  Tom,  Bill  and 
myself.  So  I  advised  Ellen  to  return  to  Stoneville, 
and  saw  her  off  on  the  midnight  train.  I  shall  never 
forget  her  mein  when  we  parted.  Her  passion,  too 
deep  for  vocal  expression,  was  lost  in  the  stare  of  a 
broken-hearted  woman  whose  idol  was  shattered. 

That  night  I  sat  watching  beside  Joe  till  a  late 


56 

hour.  As  near  as  I  can  remember,  it  was  three 
o'clock  in  the  morning  when  I  left  him. 

Walking  down  Washington  street  I  met  Edgar 
WHoby,  the  local  editor  of  the  Daily  Item.  I  took 
him  into  my  corfidence,  threw  an  eagle  into  hlspuise 
and  dictated  a  crude  little  obituary  of  Joe,  which  ap- 
peared in  the  paper  that  morning.  I  hung  around 
the  press  room  till  the  paper  was  run  off,  which  was 
abou.  five  o'clock  a.  m.  I  secured  a  copy  and  hur- 
ried to  the  station  where  I  boarded  the  train  for  Stone- 
ville,  at  which  place  I  arrived  about  nine  o'clock 
that  day.  I  immediately  walked  over  to  Ellen's. 
Restivi  d  and  calm  she  met  me  at  the  gate  and  seemed 
await  of  my  errand.  I  handed  her  the  Daily  Item — 
not  a  sound  escaped  her.  Silently  the  tears  trickled 
down  her  cheeks  and  fell  upon  the  paper  as  she 
read.  I  advised  a  change  of  scene  and  the  company 
of  a  lady  friend,  in  whom  she  could  confide;  than 
whom  none  were  better  than  her  aunt,  who  lived  at 
East  Point,  Georgia. 

This  was  a  difficult  task,  but  after  much  persua- 
sion, I  succeeded,  and  she  left  on  the  early  train  the 
next  day.  As  the  train  pulled  out,  I  felt  relieved 
and  breathed  easier.  I  remained  there  a  few  days  and 
then  left  for  Chicago,  Cincinnati  and  other  places, 
finally  winding  up  at  East  Point. 

Here  I  began  my  suit  in  earnest.  I  told  Ellen 
of  my  passion,  and  at  last  won  her  hand;  but  her 


'^SILENTLY   THE   TEARS   TRICKLED   DOWN    HER   CHEEKS 
AND  FELL  UPON  THE  PAPER  AS  SHE  READ." 


57 

heart  had  been  irretrievably  given  to  another.  It  is 
useless  to  attempt  a  description  of  my  happiness. 
Language  is  a  poor  medium  of  expression,  when  love 
is  the  theme.  In  the  midst  of  my  felicity,  I  secured  a 
horse  and  buggy  and  drove  out  over  the  country. 

It  was  a  bright  spring  afternoon.  The  forest  trees 
had  taken  on  new  leaf,  through  which  the  dog-wood 
and  honeysuckle  blossoms  could  be  seen  swaying  in 
the  gentle  breeze.  There  the  birds  flitted,  warbling 
songs  of  joy;  the  b?es  buzzed,  and  the  herds  went 
browsing  over  the  field,  all  presenting  a  scene  I 
shall  never  forget,  for  they  seemed  a  complement  to 
my  wooing. 

We  drove  down  the  road  till  we  came  to  a  cool 
spring.  Here  we  qnenced  our  thirst,  and  stood  a 
moment  watching  the  minnows  play  in  the  branch. 
It  wao  a  delightful  place  —a  place  where  one  might 
want  to  linger,  looking  backward,  perhaps,  to  other 
times,  when  childish  loves,  with  lurned-up  pantaloons 
and  lifted  skirts,  scared  the  trout  from  under  the 
maple  roots  and  dreamed  of  the  coming  years;  where 
older  children  might  pause  a  moment  till  fancy, 
responsive  to  extravagant  desire,  could  catch  a  glimpse 
of  the  gilded  gables  of  castles  in  the  air;  and  where 
aged  ones  might  review  in  their  retrospection  images 
of  the  things  they  used  to  know. 

Intoxicated  with  my  dream  of  happiness,  I 
assisted  Ellen  back  into  the  buggy,  and  was  about  to 


58 

take  my  seat  beside  her,  when  she  saw  a  wild  rose 
and  desired  it.  As  I  turned  to  secure  it  a  large  hawk, 
in  pursuit  of  a  quail,  darted  suddenly  over  the  road 
with  its  long  wings  brushing  the  ears  of  the  horse, 
at  which  he  became  terrified  and  dashed  down  the 
road  frenzied  of  fright. 

At  the  top  of  my  speed  I  ran  to  overtake  him , 
but  to  no  purpose.  On  and  on  he  went !  The  mad 
horse,  with  Ellen,  lost  himself  in  the  distance." 

Thus  ended  the  diary.  Joe  laid  it  aside,  lit  his 
cigar  and  walked  out  for  a  stroll.  Perhaps  it  was 
better  for  Dobey  that  his  condition  was  such  that  it 
appealed  to  Joe's  pity  ;  otherwise,  there  might  have 
been  a  duel.  As  it  was,  Joe  was  anxious  to  have 
Dobey  remember  him. 

The  next  day  all  concerned  in  the  restoration  of 
Dobey's  memory  were  astir  betimes.  The  doctor 
secured  horses  and  buggies  for  the  trip  ;  one  for  him- 
self and  Joe,  and  one  for  Dobey  and  his  nurse.  They 
were  to  drive  down  to  East  Point  and  leave  Dobey 
with  Ellen,  who  was  to  decoy  him  into  a  drive  over 
the  old  way  to  Gum  Springs  ;  and  the  others  were  to 
follow,  keeping  at  a  close  distance  behind. 

All  expectancy,  Ellen  was  waiting  for  them  on 
the  front  veranda,  when  her  aunt  came  to  her  and 
took  her  affectionately  by  the  hand,  and  began  to 
narrate  this  superstitious  story  : 

.  "  Ellen,  dear,  I  have  a  presentiment.    Something 


59 

is  going  to  happen.  You  know  the  old  clock  in  the 
east  room,  adjoining  the  parlor?  Well,  it  was  placed 
there  many  years  ago  by  my  great-grandmother, 
Beatrice  Glenn.  Weatherford,  the  great  Indian  chief, 
was  very  fond  of  her,  and  used  to  bring  her  presents 
from  his  trophies  of  war.  On  a  sunny  day  in  June, 
1810,  he  met  her  under  that  old  oak  there,  with  the 
dead  top,  and  presented  to  her  this  clock.  She  gave 
it  the  place  of  honor  in  the  east  room,  and  there  it 
has  remained  since — a  mysterious  indicator  of  evil. 
To  my  own  knowledge,  it  has  refused  to  keep  time  for 
thirty  years ;  and  yet  at  unwonted  times  it  strikes 
twelve,  and  not  a  tick  nor  stroke  more.  Always  after 
these  strange  freaks  of  the  clock  a  tragedy  happens, 
in  which  some  member  of  the  Glenn  family  is  closely 
connected. 

"  I  remember  last  year,  when  you  and  Mr.  Dobey 
went  out  for  a  drive,  the  old  clock  struck  twelve, 
although  it  was  three  in  the  afternoon.  I  would 
have  told  you  before,  but  I  knew  you  would  laugh  at 
what  you  are  pleased  to  call  my  superstition,  and 
make  fun  of  the  haunted  clock.  I  warn  you  now  not 
to  go  out  with  this  man  to-day.  No  good  can  come 
of  it ;  for  at  three  o'clock  this  morning  the  clock 
struck  twelve." 

She  turned  to  go  in -doors,  and  the  doctor  and  his 
party  drove  down  the  lane. 

Ellen  met  them  at  the  gate,  and  in  company  with 


6o 

Dobey,  she  walked  up  the  long  walk,  under  the 
ancient  forest  trees,  along  its  border,  when  suddenly 
the  deep,  sonorous  strokes  of  the  clock  chimed  out 
the  hour  of  twelve. 

Instantly  Dobey 's  mind  returned  and  he  knew 
all.  A  superstitious  fear  seized  Ellen,  and  she  paused 
under  Weatherford's  tree  and  gazed  at  her  com- 
panion. 

He  held  out  his  hands  to  her  and  said. 

"Ellen,  don't  you  know  me?  I  am  Dobey; 
George  Dobey!" 

Then  there  was  a  crash  of  falling  timber,  and  a 
huge  limb,  Jailing  from  the  tree  under  which  they 
stood,  struck  Dobey  on  the  head  and  felled  him 
on  the  spot.  Ellen  swooned  and  fell  in  Joe's  arms. 
All  was  over — Dobey 's  wounds  were  fatal. 

As  Joe  sat  in  the  east  room,  after  the  doctor  had 
dressed  Dobey's  wound,  he  held  out  his  hands  to  Joe 
and  said  : 

"Joe,  forgive  me!  You  will  find  my  confession 
among  my  papers.  It  is  true — every  word  of  it." 

He  then  turned  his  face  to  the  wall  and  the  silver 
cord  was  broken.  Thus  was  he  gathered  to  his 
father's,  and  that  strange  epitaph  written  on  his  tomb. 

Again  the  clock  struck  twelve,  the  gavel  fell 
and  Simmons  had  his  supper  at  the  expense  of  the 
CL,UB. 


Home  Missions  vs.  A  Cock  Fight. 


HOME  MISSIONS  vs.  A  COCK  FIGHT. 


P; 


ZRA  BEDIvOW,  of  Sunny  Side,  was  as  fine  a 
*-'  speciman  of  humanity  as  ever  worked  six  days 
a  week  and  went  to  church  of  Sundays.  With  the 
exception  of  his  weakness  for  game  chickens,  there 
was  not  a  better  Methodist  in  that  section  of  country. 
At  least,  that  is  what  Ned  Spriggs  says  of  him  ;  and 
the  little  Uncle  Ned  has  forgot  of  Sunny  Side  mem- 
oirs is  not  worth  knowing. 

Commonly  speaking,  Ezra  was  not  a  gamester. 
He  was  never  known  to  bet  on  anything  but  a  cock 
fight,  and  that  was  long  before  he  joined  Ebeneza 
church,  some  twenty  years  ago.  Since  then  he  has 
evaded  the  promptings  of  his  conscience  by  using 
the  word  "lay"  instead  of  "bet,"  and  only 
under  great  pressure  would  he  even  do  that ;  but 
sometimes,  when  chance  was  out  of  the  question  and 
gain  certain,  he  would  "lay"  a  little.  He  had  a 
single  game  cock,  however,  upon  whose  fighting  qual- 
ities he  would  lay  his  birthright 

63 


64 

Uncle  Allen  Ward,  a  neighbor  of  his,  had  an 
equal  affection  for  the  amusement  of  the  pit.  Uncle 
Ned  knew  him  also,  and  when  spoken  to  concerning 
him  always  gave  this  reply  : 

"Aren't  'herent  of  close  communion?  He'd  walk 
er  mile  ter  run  er  pig  from  er  duck  pond  in  which 
he'd  'merse  all  de  prettv  gals  uv  de  'munity.  Er  good 
man',  sah,  ter  de  outer  linin'  uv  his  Sunday  coat." 

Now  Uncle  Allen  was  Road  Overseer  of  the  Sunny 
Side  public  road  ;  and  public  office  was  no  more  a 
"public  trust"  to  great  Cleveland  than  to  him.  That 
section  of  the  road  worked  by  the  thirty  men  under 
his  control  was  known,  far  and  near — by  every  man, 
woman  and  child  within  forty  miles  of  Sunny  Side — 
and  there  was  not  a  traveling  salesman  south  of  the 
Ohio  river  who  did  not  have  that  piece  of  the  public 
domain  stamped  indellibly  on  his  mind.  I  am  sure 
you  need  no  lecturing  on  the  subject  of  roads  ;  that 
when  you  find  one  which  has  had  the  valleys  raised, 
the  hills  leveled  down,  its  crooked  ways  made  straight, 
and  the  straight  way  leading  through  cultured  fields, 
by  running  streams  and  blooming  orchards,  where 
the  songs  of  the  harvester,  the  laughter  of  youth  and 
the  prattle  of  children  proclaim  the  ease  of  rustic  life, 
you  may  feel  that  you  are  in  a  community  that  may 
well  congratulate  itself  on  having  made  advancement 
in  the  arts  of  civilization.  Still  I  am  persuaded  that 
before  you  can  enter  fully  into  the  appreciation  of 


65 

good  roads,  you  should  see  Uncle  Allan's  road  ;  then 
I  am  sure  you  would  vote  to  change  the  Constitution 
in  such  a  way  as  to  make  it  a  felony  for  any  man  not 
to  give  a  tithe  of  his  daily  earnings  to  the  cause  of 
good  roads. 

Uncle  Allen's  road  led  through  the  red  hills  of 
Simpson  county,  and  a  finer  scope  of  country  cannot 
be  found  in  central  Mississippi.  He  had  worked  on 
this  road  since  the  days  of  Reconstruction;  and  at  last 
had  succeeded  in  getting  it  well  and  thoroughly 
drained,  with  a  prominent  ditch  in  the  middle  and 
minor  ones  on  the  sides,  with  rolling  ridges  between 
and  a  few  pine  "punchings,"  as  he  called  them,  laid 
across  the  boggy  places. 

To  be  remembered,  the  road  should  be  gone 
over.  I  see  it  now  as  plainly  as  on  that  moon-lit 
night  when  I,  with  a  span  of  donkeys  hitched  to  a 
road  cart,  stalled  on  the  slopes  of  hickory  knolls  on 
a  down-hill  pull. 

It  was  toward  the  middle  of  a  sultry  summer  day 
and  the  men  were  at  work  on  the  road  ;  or  rather  I 
should  say,  they  were  amusing  themselve  by  narra- 
tions of  the  coon  fights,  'possum  hunts,  fox  drives  and 
other  adventures  of  the  chase  through  which  they 
had  passed  ;  and  by  pitching  occasional  shovels  of 
sand  at  the  holes  in  the  common  highway,  when  the 
little  incident  I  am  thinking  of  occurred. 

Uncle  Kzra  and  Allen  both  were  on  the  road  that 


66 

day,  and  the  boys,  knowing  the  zeal  with  which  they 
always  push  a  debate,  had  been  trying  all  the  morn- 
ing to  draw  them  into  discussing  infant  baptism  ;  but 
to  no  purpose.  They  were  not  in  a  talkative  mood. 

It  was  now  about  twelve  o'clock,  and  a  half  doz- 
en or  more  dinner  horns  were  echoing  among  the 
hills.  Their  appetites  were  awakened  and  they  passed 
from  labor  to  refreshment,  some  of  them  stopping  on 
the  way  to  consult  a  conspicuous  gentleman  who  was 
among  them.  For  you  will  remember,  wherever  and 
whenever  two  or  three  of  the  colored  brethren  have 
met  together  for  the  advancement  of  the  public  weal, 
there  is  generally  one  in  the  midst  with  a  grievance; 
and  he  was  there  in  the  person  ot  envious  Bill. 

It  appears  that,  some  time  before,  Bill  had  joined 
the  church  on  probation;  and  the  religious  side  of  his 
nature  being  a  little  shady,  Uncle  Ezra  had  had 
his  name  struck  from  the  rolls  thereof.  From  that 
dav  Bill  had  sought  for  the  besetting  sin  of  Uncle 
Ezra,  and  found  it  to  be  chicken  fighting;  and,  think- 
ing this  a  good  time  and  place  to  verify  this  fact, 
whispered  to  one  of  the  boys  : 

"  De  old  hypocrit  '11  bet  his  life  on  er  chicken 
fight." 

Whereupon  Dennis  Jones  walked  across  the  road 
with  his  dinner  pail  in  his  hand  and  said  aloud  : 

"  Boys,  I  don't  know  much  erbout  er  coon  fight, 
but  I's  jist  gwine  ter  tell  yer  sompen.  Uncle  Allen  has 


67 

er  bird  over  de  fence  dahr  dat  kin  jist  whip  anything 
dat  wears  feathers."  About  this  time  a  beautiful 
gray  rooster  flew  upon  the  fence,  flopped  its  wings 
and  crowed.  Dennis  said,  "Dat  am  de  bird;' ain't  he 
a  bute? 

They  were  now  in  front  of  Uncle  Allen's  house, 
which  stands  on  an  eminence  overlooking  Strong 
River,  and  because  of  the  many  oaks  in  the  yard,  it 
is  known  as  Oak  View. 

The  men  rushed  to  the  lawn  for  a  nooning  under 
the  trees.  I  should  have  excepted  Uncle  Ezra,  for  he 
was  quietly  leading  his  old  gray  mule  to  a  convenient 
place  to  mount  him,  when  someone  of  the  boys  heard 
him  say,  as  if  speaking  to  himself,  "I 's  got  er  little 
cock  dat  kin  jist  run  dat  chicken  inter  Strong  River," 
and  yelled  it  out  to  the  crowd.  Upon  which  many  of 
them  came  running  back  and  among  them  was  Uncle 
Allen,  who,  in  a  defiant  manner,  said,  "What's  dat 
'bout  Strong  River?" 

"  Oh,  nothin'  !  Only  I  's  got  er  cock  dat  kin 
lick  yourn  ;  dat's  all." 

Pshaw!  pshaw!  Brer'  Ez.;  yer  knows  dat  ain't 
so." 

"So,  er  not  so,  ef  I  wuzn't  de  Stewart  uv  Ebe- 
neezer  M.  E.  church  I'd  lay  my  yallow  yearlin'  dat  it 
is  so." 

Now,  Uncle  Allen  had  long  coveted  that  yel- 
low yearling,  because  of  its  Jersey^pedigrees,  and  hav- 


68 

ing  confidence  in  his  "Irish  Gray,"  as  he  called  his 
rooster,  he  was  tempted,  and  fell;  for  he  said,  "  I  's 
'bout  ez  good  as  you  is,  an'  bein'  de  deacon  uv  Little 
Zion  don't  keep  me  from  layin'  anythin'  yer  wants 
ter  dat  it  aint  so." 

"Look  here,  Brer'  Allen,  yer  ain't  seed  my 
chicken ,  has  yer  ?' ' 

"Nawp." 

"Well,  I  's  gwine  ter  bring  him  down  fur  yer 
ter  look  at." 

"Dat's  right,  Uncle  Ez.;  bring  him  down,"  cried 
many  voices  together,  as  he  rode  off  down  the  hill 
with  his  heels  sticking  to  the  sides  of  the  mule  and 
his  arms  churning  the  air. 

He  was  not  long  in  reaching  his  home,  where  he 
found  a  nice  little  dinner  awaiting  him.  He  ate  it, 
and  instead  of  taking  his  after  dinner  nap,  as  was 
usual  with  him,  he  went  to  his  crib  and  began  to 
shell  corn  and  throw  it  around  the  door.  Pretty  soon 
a  score  or  more  of  chickens  were  tumbbling  over  each 
other  to  get  the  corn;  and  among  them  was  a  beautiful 
black-breasted  red  game  rooster.  He  picked  him  up 
and  pushed  him  into  a  bag  he  had  for  the  occasion. 
All  the  while,  aunt  Ellen,  his  wife,  was  watching  him 
from  a  crack  in  the  wall  of  their  one-roomed  log 
cabin.  The  last  she  saw  of  him  he  was  jogging  over 
Hickory  Noles  with  that  black-breasted  red  game 
under  one  arm,  while  with  the  other  he  was  per- 


69 

suading  the  mule,  by  the  aid  of  a  club  he  carried,  to 
quicken  its  speed.  He  finally  succeded  in  urging 
him  up  to  three  miles  an  hour  and  reached  Oik  View 
about  one  hour  behind  time. 

He  found  the  boys  pretty  much  in  the 
same  place  on  the  road  as  when  they  knocked 
off  for  dinner,  putting  in  the  usual  work.,  for  a 
public  road  in  Mississippi,  leaning  on  their 
spade  handles,  smoking  home-made  cheroots,  crack- 
ing jokes  and  discussing  the  "fuesibility  "  of  cutting 
out  a  new  road  through  the  under  brush,  rather  than 
fill  up  a  certain  mud  hole  about  two  miles  away,  and 
which  they  would  reach  some  time  in  the  next  year. 
At  this  particular  moment,  however,  Dennis  had  suc- 
ceeded in  getting  the  floor,  or  rather  a  stump  by  the 
road  side,  and  was  getting  in  a  motion  "  Ter  jurn  de 
meeting  (road  working)  tell  de  craps  wuz  laid  by," 
when  uncle  Ezra's  rooster,  hearing  another  one  crow, 
stuck  its  head  through  a  hole  in  the  bag  and  crowed 
in  return.  This  was  a  signal  for  applause,  and  the 
crowd  yelled  a  good  old  time  country  whoop. 
Presently  it  was  more  quiet,  and  some  of  the  more 
active  boys  ran  off  to  let  uncle  Allen  know  what  was 
going  on. 

During  all  this  time  aunt  Ellen  had  been  doing 
some  thinking  herself,  and, remembering  that  she  had 
an  invitation  to  the  Woman's  Missionary  meeting 
that  afternoon,  with  a  request  that  she  bring  a  fowl 


7o 

as  her  donation  to  the  festival,  they  were  to  give  in  aid 
of  Home  Missions.  She,  too,  did  as  her  husband  had 
done,  caught  a  fowl  and  put  it  into  a  bag.  After  this 
she  hitched  her  filly  to  a  road  cart,  and  swung  down 
the  road  toward  uncle  Allen's.  But  I  am  ahead  of 
my  story,  let  me  return. 

As  uncle  Ezra  rode  up  the  boys  fell  to  discussing 
game  chickens  generally,  and  uncle  Alan's  specially, 
and  tried  in  various  ways  to  get  uncle  Ezra  to  untie 
the  bag  and  show  his  chicken,  but  to  no  purpose.  He 
was  not  quite  ready.  Uncle  Allen  had  not  come  from 
dinner  and  he  was  waiting  for  him.  To  tell  the  truth 
he  wanted  him  to  "lay"  his  Poland  China  sow 
againt  his  "  Yallow  yearlin;"  for  he  thought  as  much 
of  his  neighbor's  sow,  as  his  neighbor  thought  of  his 
yearling;  and  as  his  black -breasted  red  game  was 
"Simplee  'vincerble"  there  was  no  danger. 

After  a  while  uncle  Allen  came  out,  picking  his 
teeth  and  seemed  to  have  forgotten  the  chickens,  until 
uncle  Ezra  said  something  about  his  yearling.  Then 
he  spoke  up  and  said : 

"I  has  er  yearlin'  dat  kin  put  up  ez  good  er 
fight  ez  my  rooster,  an'  I  rekens  he  won't  mind 
backin'  de  Irish  gray.  I'll  lay  yer  my  yearlin'  ergin 
yourns." 

"  No,  lay  your  Polon  Chiny  sow." 

"  Veree  well  sab,  de  sow." 

"  It's  er  lay,  bring  er  long  yer  Irish  gray." 


So  say  ing,  he  clutched  his  bag  a  little  tighter, 
and  uncle  Allen  began  to  call  his  chickens.  During 
these  preliminaries  envious  Bill  sat  upon  a  stump  by 
the  road,  with  his  doubled  fist  under  his  chin  and  his  el- 
bows on  his  knees,  mumbling  to  himself,  "Dis  is  de 
saint  Ezra  Bedlow,  who  sets  in  judgment  on  his  betters. 
De  Elder  shall  know  dis  ef  I  lives."  Then  a  smile  of 
satisfaction  curled  his  upper  lip  into  a  grin  which  his 
satanic  majesty,  Moloch,  might  envy.  About  this 
time  aunt  Ellen  came  driving  along  the  road  on  her 
way  to  the  missionary  meeting.  She  drew  in  her 
reins  when  she  got  near  them,  and  uncle  Ezra,  bag  in 
hand,  walked  across  the  road  to  meet  her.  Smiling 
blandly,  he  said: 

"  Well,  old  'oman.  which  er  way  ?  " 

"  I's  lookin'  a'ter  Home  Missions,  an'  thought 
I'd  jist  drive  by  an'  let  yer  know." 

"  Yes,  yes  !  I  had  fergot  de  meetin';  dat's  right, 
go  er  head.  I  'spose  yer  wants  some  change?  " 

"  Yes,  Ezra,  er  little  change  wouldn't  hurt." 

Anxious  to  get  her  away,  he  laid  the  bag  with  the 
rooster  in  her  buggy,  while  he  fished  up  a  quarter  of 
a  dollar  from  his  pocket.  Handing  it  to  her,  he  took 
up  the  bag,  and  she  drove  off,  to  his  great  satisfac- 
tion, for  he  would  not  have  had  her  at  the  cock  fight 
for  all  the  Poland  China  sows  round  about  Sunny- 
Side. 

Uncle  Allen  had  caught  his   Irish  Gray   by  this 


72 

time,  and  was  ready.  The  men  gathered  around 
uncle  Ezra  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  his  black- 
breasted  red  game.  The  bag  was  soon  untied  and 
he  drew  him  forth.  Imagine  their  great  surprise  to 
find  an  old  Muscovy  duck  instead. 

Envious  Bill  then  slid  down  off  that  stump,  and, 
like  a  big  boy  who  stubs  his  toe  in  a  crowd,  went 
whistling  down  the  road,  too  big  to  show  concern  and 
two  little  to  laugh.  The  test  of  the  men,  however, 
took  it  good  naturedly,  and  put  in  the  best  and  only 
honest  day's  work  that  had  been  done  on  the  Sunny 
Side  road  in  thirty  years. 

It  is  barely  necessary  to  say,  while  uncle  Ezra 
was  getting  the  change,  aunt  Ellen  shifted  the  bags, 
giving  him  the  drake  instead  of  his  rooster,  and  this 
was  her  "  Home  Mission." 


The  Jewel-Tailed  'Possum. 


THE  JEWEL-TAILED  TOSSUM. 


thirty  years  ago,  when  Bill  Clemmings  was 
more  handsome  than  he  is  now,  he  went  spark- 
ing with  Julia  Gay,  a  prim  and  tidy  girl  of  forty  sum- 
mers to  her  credit,  in  the  bank  of  time  ;  and  a  daily 
income  that  promised  as  many  more.  She  was  of 
agreeable  manners  and  thrifty  to  a  fault,  so  nothing 
would  do  Bill  but  to  fall  heels  ovei  head  in  love  with 
her. 

In  less  than  a  week  after  they  first  met,  he  pro- 
posed, and  she  ruthlessly  put  him  off  till  the  next 
day.  This  afflicted  him  with  all  the  tortures  a  sensi- 
tive nature  is  heir  to.  At  best,  the  affairs  of  the 
heart  are  troublesome,  and  he  now  felt,  not  as  one 
who  walks  on  air,  with  garlands  about  his  head,  but 
as  if  he  were  so  much  corn  passing  through  a  mill 
hopp^er. 

A  thousand  years  which  have  passed,  to  some 
people,  may  appear  as  a  day,  or  a  song  in  the  night. 

75 


76 

I  don't  know  much  about  that,  but  I  do  know  a  day 
of  suspense  to  a  man  in  love  has  a  peculiar  way  of 
stretching  itself  into  eons  of  time.  Simmons  must 
have  lived  a  million  years  that  night  before  he  suc- 
ceeded in  persuading  her  to  marry  him  at  five  o'clock 
the  next  morning.  However,  about  half  past  three 
o'clock  that  night,  she  gave  her  consent,  and  he  be- 
gan at  once  to  arrange  for  the  turning  epoch  of  his  life. 

There  was  a  preacher  in  the  house  and  after  having 
secured  his  services,  Clemmings  began  making  those 
little  changes  in  his  toilet  the  occasion  demanded. 
Nothing  improves  the  facial  appearance  of  a  man  so 
much  as  a  clean  shave.  That  was  Clemmings  opin- 
ion, so  he  went  out  to  look  for  a  barber.  He  met 
Joe  Cade  on  the  street  and  inquired  of  him  where  he 
could  find  one.  Turning  in  his  tracks,  Cade  said: 
"Yonder's  one.  "  See  him  in  degas  light  by  de  cor- 
ner wid  er  bag  on  his  back."  He  left  Cade  and  ran 
after  the  man  with  the  bag,  and  overtook  him  just  as 
he  slipped  it  from  his  shoulder  to  unbolt  his  door. 

Clemmings  saluted  him  politely,  told  his  bus- 
iness and  explained  his  haste,  all  in  the  same  breath  > 
apparently.  The  barber  directed  him  to  a  seat,  by  a 
wave  of  his  hand,  tied  the  bag  to  a  leg  of  the  barber 
chair,  and  began  to  make  a  lather.  This  done  he 
honed  his  razor  on  a  brick,  in  the  jam  of  the  chim- 
ney. He  now  untied  the  bag  and  drew  out  of  it  an 
opossum,  lathered  and  began  to  shave  it  to  the  great 


77 

annoyance  of  Clemmings,  and,  because  of  which  he 
cursed,  raged  and  stormed  at  the  barber,  then  ca- 
joled, fondled  and  persuaded  him  alternately,  but  to 
no  purpose.  The  barber  simply  looked  at  him 
and  said:  "No  useSah,  dis  varmintan'  happiness  is 
dejsame  wid  me." 

He  had  now  shaved  off  a  place  at  the  root  of  the 
opossum's  tale  about  the  size  of  a  silver  dollar. 
Which  place  he  split  open  with  his  razor,  and  took 
therefrom  a  beautiful  and  dazzling  diamond,  about 
the  size  of  the  first  phalanx  of  a  man's  thumb.  Dazed 
at  the  lustre  of  the  jewel,  he  leaned  forward  with  his 
mouth  opened,  speechless  of  surprise,  as  the  barber 
took  the  opossum  to  the  door  and  let  it  go. 

Instantly  he  returned,  and  Clemmings,  having 
regained  his  self-control,  asked  him  to  explain  his 
actions.  The  baiber  said:  "I's  ready  ter  shave  yer 
now,  but  ef  yer  rather,  I'll  'cite  de  story  uv  de  pos- 
sum wid  de  jewel  in  his  tail."  Clemmings  preferred 
the  story  and  he  began  his  narration,  which,  stripped 
of  its  brogue,  is  as  follows: 

"At  Richmond,  when  the  Confederate  idol,  a 
government  whose  fundamental  principles  were 
States  Rights  and  slavery,  was  crumbling  and  its  cab- 
inet being  dismembered,  an  officer  high  in  the 
government  of  its  affairs,  while  passing  from  the 
capitol  building,  dropped  this  diamond  and  I  picked 
it  up.  I  would  have  given  it  to  him  at  the  time,  had 


78 

not  an  incident  beyond  my  control  prevented. 

"Instantly  upon  dropping  it  a  courier  from  the 
Camp  of  lyee  met  him  and  they  held  a  hurried  con- 
versation, in  the  midst  of  which,  I  heard  him,  who 
had  dropped  the  jewel  exclaim,"  PETERSBURG!  RE- 
TREAT!" Before  I  could  speak  to  him,  he  and  the 
courier  passed  into  the  president's  private  chambers 
and  I  was  left  alone.  Oppressively  so,  for  somehow 
I  felt  the  hand  of  Fate  was  upon  me.  There  was  a 
lull  in  the  deep  and  sullen  roll  of  artillery  to  the 
south  of  us  ;  the  day  was  waning,  and  the  sun,  like  a 
blood  shot  eye  in  a  gloomy  face,  went  out.  Then 
there  were  the  breaking  of  fond  ties,  bereavements, 
the  despair  of  strong  men,  the  wailing  of  women,  the 
hurrying  to  and  fro  in  the  doomed  city  by  the  pop- 
ulace,and  the  extinguishing  of  camp  fires,  as  the  last 
retreat  of  that  valiant  and  most  skillfully  governed 
army,  known  in  the  annals  of  war  began,  and  Hope 
skulked  from  the  Confederate  capital,  weeping  over 
the  "Lost  Cause." 

"In  the  midst  of  the  confusion,  I  returned  to  the 
quarters  of  him  who  had  lost  the  jewel,  and  whose 
fortunes  I  had  followed  since  the  days  of  'Bull  Run.' 
He  was  my  master  and  friend.  I  met  him  in  the  way 
and  he  directed  me  to  take  charge  of  his  belongings 
and  follow  him.  I  bundled  them  together  and  then 
looked  after  my  own,  which  were  this  razor  and  strop, 
myfcclothing  and  a  pet  opossum. 


79 

"  The  clothing  was  very  dear  to  me,  because  it 
was  the  gift  of  my  master.  But  my  chief  concern 
was  about  the  jewel.  Perhaps  you  would  not  have 
done  as  I  did  with  it ;  but  the  most  of  us,  in  sudden 
danger,  great  calamities,  and  unexpected  occurences 
often  do  the  most  nonsensical  things,  and  I,  to  hide 
the  diamond  from  the  invaders,  as  well  as  from  the 
pilferers  of  our  own  camp,  split  open  the  skin  at  the 
root  of  the  opossum's  tail,  pushed  in  the  diamond 
and  sewed  up  the  place.  I  then  put  it  into  a  bag, 
threw  the  bag  across  my  shoulder  and  joined  the 
other  Negro  servants  in  the  rear  of  the  retreating 
army,  which  went  to  pieces,  a  few  days  later,  at 
Appomattox  in  glorious  defeat. 

"After  our  reverses  at  Appomattox,  I  sought  my 
master  among  the  living  and  the  dead,  but  found  him 
not  ;  so  I  put  him  down  as  missing  and  started  for 
my  home  in  Fulton  county,  Georgia.  For  weeks  I 
tramped  along  the  dusty  road  with  that  opossum  on 
my  back  in  a  bag.  On  my  way  south,  I  passed 
many  a  camping  ground  and  gory  field,  where,  but 
yesterday,  the  bonny  blue  flag  floated  the  gay  and 
magical  emblem  of  southern  hope,  and  where  the  roll 
of  artillery  and  the  rattle  of  musketry,  were  but  the 
music  of  a  war  dance;  and  now  those  battle  fields 
are  but  waste  and  barren  places  where  the  chirp  of  a 
cricket  makes  one  start,  and  where  the  memory^of 


8o 

many  a  maimed  musketeer  lingers  over  the  legendary 
glory  of  the   grandeur  of  war. 

And  there  I  would  sometimes  linger, 
and  with  such  reflection  as  I  was  capable  of, 
think  of  the  nothingness  of  glory  and  the  de- 
ception of  fame  ;  for  what  advantage  has  the  re- 
nown of  the  warrior  ovei  the  obscurity  of  the  swain  ? 
After  all,  the  heights  of  eminence  are  lost  in  mist, 
and  the  band  that  has  grown  crimson  in  crushing 
human  hearts,  cannot  resist  the  worm  that  assails  it 
in  the  grave,  and  a  generation  hence,  the  descend- 
ants of  the  victorious  armies,  yielding  to  the  elo- 
quence of  those  of  the  vanished,  will  (for  a  jest  and  a 
smile)  surrender  all  for  which  their  wise  men  con- 
tended, and  that  which  it  took  the  lives  of  a  million 
men  to  purchase,  to  say  nothing  of  the  arson,  pillage 
and  murder  that  ruined  the  homes  of  the  non-com 
batants.  Thus,  I  would  ponder  till  mistress  and  her 
orphans,  Dinah  and  the  children  went  trooping 
through  my  humble  brain.  What  other  hand  than 
mine  was  to  support  them  in  their  bereavement?  This 
thought  would  strengthen  me,  and  again  I  would 
hurry  homeward. 

"  One  evening,  when  I  was  about  three  miles 
away,  I  came  to  a  cool  spring  by  the  road.  There  I 
stopped  for  refreshment  and  rest.  My!  what  an  influ- 
ence the  scenery  of  one's  early  home  has  on  him  in 
after  life.  When,  old  and  decrepid,  he  passes  some 


8i 

familiar  spot  where  memory  lingers,  he  renews  old 
associations  in  dreams  of  what  has  been.  I  had  no 
sooner  drunk  of  the  spring  and  tntbed  my  face  in 
the  tranquil  waters  than  all  the  old  life  came  back  to 
me  ;  for  it  was  at  this  spring  I  first  met  Dinah,  and 
there  it  was  our  spirits  wed.  Busy  with  my  recol- 
lections, I  was  filled  with  an  inexpressible  desire  to 
see  her  ;  and,  forgetting  all  things  else,  I  rose  and 
pressed  forward. 

I  had  not  gone  far  before,  to  my  great  sorrow,  I 
discovered  I  had  forgotten  the  opossum.  Hurriedly 
I  went  back  to  the  spring  for  it.  The  false  thing  had 
gone,  where  I  knew  not.  Search  for  it  was  useless, 
so  I  resumed  my  journey.  Returning,  I  had  time 
for  reflection,  and  my  mind  naturally  turned  to  the 
jewel.  Its  value  was  sufficient  to  excite,  even  in  mv 
simply  mind,  mercenary  considerations;  but  I  had 
other  motives  for  keeping  it.  My  master  had  often 
told  me  that  it  was  a  talisman  that  protected  the  life 
of  the  man  who  kept  it  about  his  person  ;  and,  when 
imperilled,  all  the  keep-r  of  it  had  to  do  was  to  say, 
"Diamonds  for  life,"  and  he  was  secure.  I  confess  I 
desired  to  keep  it  because  of  the  value  superstition 
gave  it  rather  than  anything  else.  In  the  midst  of 
my  thoughts  of  the  lost  jewel,  I  arrived  at  the  old 
homestead.  It  was  not  what  it  was  when  we,  master 
and  I,  left  it  four  years  ago.  The  fences  were  all 
down,  the  fields  laid  waste,  thistles  grew  in  the  gar- 


82 


dens,  and  where  the  mansion  stood  there  was  a  pile 
of  ashes  and  a  naked  chimney,  that  ttood  a  towering 
ruin  in  the  midst  of  desolation.  I  went  to  the  cabin 
where  I  had  left  Dinah  and  the  children.  They  were 
gone  ;  all  gone  !  I  hung  my  head  of  grief  ;  poor, 
naked,  despised,  bereaved  and  alone  in  the  world, 
what  charms  had  freedom  for  me  !  I  turned  to  go 
away,  and  a  hand  touched  me  on  the  shoulder.  I 
looked  around  and  beheld  him  who  had  been  my 
master,  haggard,  worn  and  broken,  staggering  under 
the  rod  of  the  Conqueror.  His  head  was  still  up, 
however,  and  he  tried  to  hide  his  emotion,  but  could 
not,  and  holding  out  his  hands  to  me  he  stammered  : 

"  I  have  lost  the  JEWEL,  !"  fell  upon  my  shoulder 
and  wept  like  a  child. 

I  made  an  attempt  at  condolence,  but  when  I 
thought  of  mistress,  Dinah  and  the  children,  and  that 
they  were  gone  from  the  old  home  forever,  I  too  broke 
down  and  wept  aloud. 

After  our  first  wild  burst  of  grief  was  over  we 
turned  silently  away  and  walked  across  the  waste  until 
we  came  to  the  old  family  burying  ground, where,  from 
among  the  weeds,  a  marble  shaft  rose,  cold  and  gray  in 
the  dreary  night,  upon  which  the  moon  broke  its  beams 
and  the  shadows  of  occasional  clouds  fell  like  funeral 
palls.  Here  my  companion  fell  to  his  knees  and  read 
the  inscription  written  there.  I  asked  him  what  it 


was,  and  in  broken  tones  he  said  :  "  Sacred  to  the 
memory  of  our  kindred,  friends  and  hope  !" 

Again  I  looked  for  some  reminder  of  Dinah.  Not 
even  a  wooden  slab  was  there,  to  mark  her  scjourn  in 
the  hamlet  of  the  dead. 

About  this  time  we  heard  distant  thunder,  and, 
looking  off  toward  the  southwest,  we  saw  a  dark 
cloud  stretched  across  the  horizon,  and  along  its  tow- 
ering thunder-head  the  livid  lightning  ran.  We 
hastened  away  in  search  of  a  place  of  safety,  and,  in 
crossing  the  field,  we  found  an  opossum  in  a  persim- 
mon bush.  I  bent  the  bush  and  pulled  him  down. 
Renewing  our  pace  and  running  briskly,  we  soon 
reached  the  public  road  and  came  abruptly  on  a  crowd 
of  horsemen.  With  presented  arms  they  cried: 

"Halt!" 

We  threw  up  our  hands,  and  I,  holding  on  to 
the  tail  of  the  opossum  the  while,  cried  out  uncon- 
sciously, "  Diamonds  for  life  !" 

Instantly  there  was  a  report  of  fire  arms,  and  old 
master  fell  dead  in  the  road. 

Our  assailants  were  three  Federal  soldiers,  two 
yankees  and  a  Negro.  They  accused  old  master  of 
being  a  Ku-Klux,  and  me  of  aiding  and  abetting 
his  escape.  They  then  demanded  of  me  the 
diamonds,  and  I  answered  evasively,  "O  pshaw  !  yer 
knows  I  meant  de  'possum  "  The  Negro  totk  the 
'possum  and  commanded  me  to  get  up  behind  him, 


84 

as  he  mounted  his  mule.  I  did  so,  and  they  rode  off 
rapidly  with  me  and  the  opossum  to  Atlanta,  and 
arrived  here  about  2  o'clock  this  morning.  The 
Yankeeys  rode  en  to  the  barracks,  and  the  Negro  hid 
the  opossum  under  a  tub  and  went  into  a  hut  near  by, 
and  I  took  the  opossum  (which,  to  my  infinite  delight, 
proved  to  be  my  pet  one,)  and  hurried  off  with  it; 
and  for  fear  that  the  Negro  soldier  might  come  around 
looking  for  it,  I  was  in  a  hurry  to  take  the  jewel  from 
its  tale." 

By  this  time  the  barber  had  honed  and  stropped 
his  razor,  and,  turning  to  Cletnmings,  gave  him  a 
clean  shave. 

After  the  shave  Clemmings  invited  him  around 
to  his  wedding.  They  were  both  happy — one  in  the 
possession  of  his  jewel  and  the  other  in  the  ecstacy 
of  reciprocated  affection.  Thus  elated,  they  walked 
along  the  street  together.  Forgetting  the  past  and 
anticipating  the  future,  they  might  well  be  said  to  be 
living  in  the  airy  mansions  of  Fancy's  building. 
Presently  they  came  to  the  house  where  Julia  was. 
Clemmings  tapped  lightly  on  the  door  and  she  opened 
it — rather,  the  door  seemed  to  have  swung  back 
automatically  to  admit  him — and  she,  leaning  on  the 
arms  of  the  preacher,  welcomed  his  coming.  Tidy 
and  buxom,  she  looked  what  she  really  was,  the  pic- 
ture of  health,  in  chignon  hair  and  Dolly  Varden 
skirts. 


85 

Clemmings  could  not  resist  the  temptation  ;  he 
caught  .her  by  the  hand,  pulled  her  to  him  and  kissed 
her.  He  then  stepped  to  her  side  and  the  preacher 
adjusted  his  spectacles.  Then  it  was  Julia  looked  up 
and  caught  a  full  view  of  the  barber,  and  exclaimed  : 

"De  Lord,  bless  my  soul !  Jim,  is  dat  yer?"  and 
leaped  into  his  arms  with  a  bound. 

The  barber  cried,  "  Dinah,  my  wife  !" 

It  was  all  over  with  Glemmings  ;  but  he  managed 
to  stammer  : 

"  I  thought  yer  wuz  Jule  ?" 

"  Namp,  dis  am  Dinah,"  said  Julia. 

Of  course,  you  understand  the  jewel  to  be  a  link 
from  the  imaginary  chain  which  Lincoln  shattered 
when  he  signed  the  Emancipation  Proclamation. 


He  Forgot  His  Head. 


HE  FORGOT  His  HEAD. 


/\  BE  had  been  paying  court  to  Miss  Nancy  for 
•**•  some  time;  or  rather  he  had  been  trying  to 
gain  her  favor,  and  had  so  far  succeeded  that  the  pub- 
lic believed  it  was  a  mutual  affair  ;  for  it  was  quietly 
whispered  among  the  "Upper  Tens:"  "Dat  oP  Abe's 
gwine  ter  marry  de  parson's  gal." 

Of  course  Miss  Nancy  told  no  one  of  her  thoughts 
on  the  subject ;  and  the  only  mention  Abe  ever  made 
of  it  was  that  made  by  him  over  his  cups  in  the 
"Mandolin  Club  Rooms,"  a  resort  of  shady  reputa- 
tion, in  Sportsman's  Alley,  where  the  colored  gentle- 
men of  leisure  spend  their  afternoons  at  pool,  rogue  et 
noir,  seven-up  and  dice  or  craps. 

At  this  particular  moment,  however,  there  was  a 
stay  in  the  general  business  of  the  establishment,  and 
the  gentlemen  were  standing  around  befogging  the 
place  with  cigarette  smoke  and  discussing  the  charac- 
teristics of  the  beautiful  women  of  the  city. 

Abe  was  a  merciless  individual  and  cared  no 
more  for  beautiful  young  ladies  than  he  did  for  the 

89 


90 

hags  of  Sportsman's  Alley.  He  assumed  the  role  of 
a  cold,  matter-of-fact  kind  of  a  fellow  ;  boasted  of  his 
celibacy  and  poked  fun  at  the  young  men  of  the  club 
who  defended  the  good  name  of  the  women  of  the 
upper  circle  of  Fair  View  society.  Throwing  his  half 
smoked  cigarette  aside,  cocking  his  hat  on  the  back 
of  his  wooly  pate  and  pretending  to  be  utterly  dis- 
gusted, he  said  : 

"I  's  got  no  patience  wid  de  chap  dat  suffers 
hisse'f  ter  be  pinned  to  er  woman's  Easter 
bonnet.  He  dos  n't  come  up  to  de  dignaty  uv  my 
contemp.'  " 

"Dat  'pends  on  who  de  angel  is  dat  wears  de 
bonnet,"  said  Felix  McGraw  as  he  walked  up  to  the  ta- 
ble where  Abe  was,  just  as  he  was  throwing  all  wom- 
en kind  off  his  mind,  with  a  snap  of  his  thumb  and 
finger. 

Continuing  Felix  said: 

"I'll  bet  my  plug  hat  dat  yer  could  not  hold  yer 
own  wid  Miss  Nancy  Summers  er  week." 

"Ha,  ha,  ha!  who  is  dat  parson's  gal  Nan?  Yer 
jist  watch  me  one  uv  dese  Easter  mornings.  I'll  have 
dat  gal  at  my  feet  yet,  an'  when  I  gits  her  dar  I 
wants  all  uv  yer  ter  see  how  I's  gwine  ter  spurn  her" 
So  saying  he  stuck  his  thumbs  through  the  armlets 
of  his  waist  coat,  threw  his  shoulders  back  and  strut- 
ted about  the  floors  of  the  club  room  with  a  self  im- 
portant air  that  was  really  provoking. 


91 

And  so  it  happened  on  an  Easter  morning,  two 
years  ago  Abe,  arrayed  in  his  best  clothing,  his  shoes 
smiling  under  a  patent  leather  polish  and  his  hands 
toying  with  a  brazen  headed  walking  cane,  made  his 
appearance  at  Foley  Chapel,  a  church  of  the  African 
Methodist  connection  that  is  making  rapid  advance- 
ment in  the  ethics  of  higher  religious  thought,  and 
took  his  seat  in  a  prominent  place  near  the  aisle. 

The  service  began  with  singing,  as  usual;  which 
was  so  rare  and  entertaining  that  I  forgot  to  note  the 
preacher's  text;  but  I  remember  the  theme  of  it.  It 
was  the  same  old  story.  The  one  that  ever  excites 
in  me  the  keenest  interest  and  the  profoundest  re- 
spect. The  suffering,  the  death,  and  the  resurrection 
of  our  L,ord  and  Master,  Jesus  Christ. 

I  have  heard  the  subject  over  and  over  again;and 
I  am  free  to  tell  you  that  I  looked  for  nothing  new  on 
this  occasion.  This  is  why,  perhaps;  I  did  not  hear 
the  reading  of  the  text  instead  of  the  singing.  The 
preacher  had  not  said  more  than  half  .a  dozen  words, 
however,  before  I  saw  that  a  master  was  in  the  pulpit 
and  that  he  was  making  the  journey  from  Bethlehem 
to  Olivet  appear  in  a  new  light  to  me. 

His  discourse  was  a  conversational  one;  and  he, 
appreciating  the  grandeur  of  his  subject,  and  feeling 
the  inspiration  of  the  "Holy  Spirit"  led  us  along  the 
the  old  familiar  paths  by  the  manger,  out  of  Egypt  in 
to  Nazareth,  through  Galilee  and  Judea,  stopping  oc- 


92 

casionally  to  point  out  the  places  of  interest  to  us  as 
we  passed.  I  remember  distinctly,  as  we  passed 
down  the  western  hills  and  across  the  valley  of  the 
Jordan,  he  pointed  out  the  Master  talking  pleasantly 
to  the  people  as  they  made  their  way  to  the  wilder- 
ness; or,  returning,  told  him  wonderful  things  of  the 
man  who  clothed  himself  with  camels'  hair,  preach- 
ed repentance  of  sin,  and  baptized  them  in  the  river 
Jordan, 

They  spoke  to  Him  in  that  persuasive  way, which 
meant  that  He  should  hurry  on  and  secure  the  bless- 
ings of  the  wonderful  baptist  while  it  was  yet  day,  un- 
mindful of  the  fact  that  He  and  not  John  was  the 
Master. 

Persuing  his  theme  he  brought  us  to  the  scene  of 
sacred  memory,  where  Christ  stood  in  the  midst  of 
the  river  with  the  multitude  about  Him,  while  John, 
lifting  his  voice  from  the  placid  waters,  cried  aloud, 
"Behold  the  Lamb  of  God  which  taketh  away  the 
sins  of  the  world!"  and  God  declared  from  the  heav- 
ens, "This  is  My  beloved  Son  in  whom  I  am  well 
pleased." 

After  this  he  led  us  down  through  the  treacher- 
ous jungles  in  the  wilderness  of  sin  where  the  Son  of 
Man  was  tempted  by  the  Prince  of  Night,  thence  up 
to  the  pinnacle  of  the  temple,  and  on  to  the  mountain 
top,  thence  down  again  through  the  fertile  fields  of 
dear  old  Galilee  and  Capernaum,  thence  by  the  shores 


93 

of  the  beautiful  sea,  and  on  and  on  through  the  val- 
ley of  the  shadow  of  death,  where  Christ  made  his 
pilgrimage,  dispensing  mercy,  forgiving  sins  and  re- 
deeming a  cursed  world. 

It  was  indeed  a  wonderful  sermon.  I  shall  never 
forget  it.  It  pursues  me  like  a  Nemesis  through  all 
the  meanderings  of  my  sinful  career,  and  seems  to  ac- 
cuse me  of  the  crucifixion.  Especially  so,  when  I 
remember  the  little  scene  he  pointed  out  to  us  in 
Bethany,  where  the  craven,  fallen  spirit  of  covetous 
man  sought  to  appropriate  to  his  own  use  the  essence 
of  an  alabaster  box,  and,  failing  in  this,  bartered  his 
friend,  his  brother,  his  Master  and  the  salvation  of  us 
all  for  a  few  pieces  of  silver. 

Climbing"  up  to  a  premature  climax,  he  told  us 
all  about  that  ungrateful  Judas,  who,  forgetting  the 
loving  kindness  of  the  Master,  denied  him  the  privacy 
of  his  three  friends.  Then,  pausing  in  his  discourse 
a  moment,  he  said,  "My  brethren,  you  will  excuse 
me  a  moment  while  I  digress  a  little  to  indulge  in  a 
few  personal  remarks  about  this  Iscariot; "  and  fixing 
his  eyes  on  Abe  with  so  much  certainty  that  the  eyes 
cf  the  congregation  were  focused  on  him  also,  he  ex- 
claimed : 

"Now,  my  brethren,  behold  the  wolf  in  sheep's 
clothing,  and  beware  of  the  man  who  sops  his  hand 
in  the  dish  with  you. 

It  was  at  this  point  that  a  big,  old  brother  up  in 


94 

the  amen  corner  cried  out:  "Tell  it,  brudder,  tell  it!" 
This  seemed  a  signal  for  applause,  or  rather,  as 
Aunt  Rachel  says,  "Er  witnessin*  uv  de  Spearet;  " 
for  Sister  Lucy  began  to  reel  and  rock  in  her  seat 
like  a  robin  on  the  bow  of  an  apple  tree  and  to  cry 
out,  "Glory  ter  God  in  de  highest;  glory,  glory, 
glory!"  Then  a  few  of  the  older  ladies,  forgetting 
their  rheumatism,  ran  up  and  down  the  open  space 
near  the  pulpit,  exclaiming  the  while  :  "They  perse- 
cu'ed  our  Lord!" 

It  was  here  that  the  preacher  lifted  his  voice 
above  the  noise  of  the  congregation  and  stormed 
away ;  and  some  of  the  more  lusty  ones  of  the 
crowd  yelled  back  at  him:  "Preach,  elder,  preach!" 

The  commotion  grew.  Men,  women  and  chil- 
dren rushed  into  the  aisles  and  about  the  church, 
shaking  hands  and  overturning  benches.  The  ser- 
vice was  now  anything  but  pious — a  riot  pure  and 
simple.  It  was  evident  that  the  preacher's  theme 
had  gotten  the  better  of  him,  and,  like  a  runaway 
horse,  was  at  large;  and  he,  getting  tangled  up  with 
the  high  priest,  the  thirty  pieces  of  silver  and  crown 
of  thorns,  roamed  about  the  valley  of  Gethsemane. 

Because  of  the  pressure,  Abe  was  crowded  off  by 
the  door,  and  I  sought  refuge  behind  an  overturned 
bench;  and,  with  the  exception  of  a  sprained  ankle 
and  a  crushed  bunion,  ascaped  unhurt. 

It  was  impossible  for  the  sermon  to  survive  this 


95 

outburst  of  passion;  so  the  preacher  let  us  down  by 
calling  on  Brother  John  to  pray,  and  he  opened  up 
with  an  echo  that  made  the  welkin  ring.  After  this, 
the  service  drifted  along  in  the  usual  way,  near  the 
end  of  which  a  collection  of  seventy-five  cents  was 
taken.  Then  the  doxology  was  sung  and  the  meet- 
ing closed  with  benediction  by  the  pastor. 

Abe  was  too  much  effected  by  the  sermon  to 
speak  to  Nancy,  but  he  took  the  preacher  aside  and 
said  to  him: 

"Reverend  sah,  let  me  conglomerate  yer  on  yer 
effort ;  it  wuz  sure  fine,  but  yer  wuz  er  little  personal 
in  yer  'marks." 

"I  don't  understand  you,  sir." 

"Well,  I  kind  er  thought  yer  ought  not  ter  had 
called  me  er  wolf  in  sheep's  clothin.' 

"Why,  my  young  friend,  I  never  thought  of 
you;  indeed  I  did  not.  I  was  after  that  Iscariot  of  a 
Judas,  John  Sloan,  up  there  in  the  amen  corner  who 
kept  on  calling  on  me  to  'tell  it!'  until  he  broke  up 
the  meeting  and  ruined  the  collection.  There  are 
many  Iscariots  in  the  world  yet,  my  friend,  and  the 
trouble  of  it  is,  they  have  not  religion  enough  to 
hang  themselves. 

"I  am  rather  pleased  to  see  you  here.  I  assure 
you  that  you  have  an  eternal  welcome  to  Foley 
Chapel.  Suppose  you  take  a  seat  in  the  choir  and 
train  that  fine  bass  voice  of  yours  to  heavenly  music." 


96 

Abe  was  delighted  with  his  success.  He  accepted 
the  invitation  to  sing  in  the  choir,  and  left  the  parson 
feeling  confident  that  he  had  made  a  good  beginning. 
On  Tuesday  and  Thursday  nights  he  met  the  young 
people  at  the  parsonage  for  choir  pr?ctice;  and  when  on 
Sunday  afternoons,  he  and  Nancy  blended  their 
voices  into  song  you  may  be  sure  the  church  services 
were  decidely  improved. 

Abe  was  getting  along  so  well  with  his  sacred 
music  that  his  friends  came  up  from  Sportsman's 
Alley  to  witness  his  success.  For  awhile  it  appeared 
as  if  the  whole  gambling  fraternity  were  going  to  dis- 
sect the  skeletons  of  their  guilty  consciences  on  the 
confessional.  The  singing  of  the  choir  was  grand. 
And  when  the  preacher  said:  "Let  all  the  people 
sing,"  and  those  fallen  sons  from  the  Mandlin  Club 
Rooms  joined  in  with  Abe  and  sang  : 

"Let  the  lower  lights  be  burning1, 
Send  a  gleam  across  the  wave, 
Some  poor,  fainting,  struggling  seaman 
You  may  rescue,  you  may  save." 

every  eye  in  the  congregation  was  moist. 

Abe  was  so  intent  on  building  a  favorable  repu- 
tation with  the  parson,  as  a  kind  of  foundation  for 
bis  little  flirtation  with  Nancy,  that  a  half  dozen  or 
more  Sundays  passed  before  he  entered  fully  upon  the 
prosecution  of  his  plans. 

In  short,  the  fine  manners,  child-like  simplicity, 


97 

chastity  and  womanly  air  of  the  parson's  daughter 
were  so  far  above  any  thing  he  had  ever  seen  or  was 
accustomed  to  in  Sportsman's  Alley,  that  he  was  at 
a  loss  to  know  just  how  to  begin;  and  McGraw  was  so 
cruelly  sarcastic  in  his  remarks  that  he  wanted  to  be 
doubly  sure  that  all  was  well  before  he  began. 

That  choir  practice  was  a  delight  to  him,  because 
behind  it  he  could  hide  from  his  friend  McGraw  and 
gaze  at  Miss  Nancy  in  silent  admiration.  Really  she 
was  an  admirable  woman.  Few  men  could  be  flip- 
pant with  her.  There  was  something  magnetic  about 
her  that  commanded  rather  than  won  respect.  Abe 
had  tried  a  dozen  times  to  ask  her  to  grant  him  an 
evening's  entertainment,  when  the  choir  was  away; 
and  as  many  times  a  peculiar  sensation  crept  up 
into  his  throat  and  choked  him  into  silence,  and  yet, 
when  he  was  away  in  the  secluded  privacy  of  his  own 
little  room,  he  was  continually  perusing  a  dictionary 
in  search  of  some  rythmical  word  to  rhyme  with 
Nancy. 

She  felt  an  interest  in  him;  but  it  was  kindly, 
rather  than  affectionate.  She,  with  her  j:  father, 
was  trying  to  lead  him  through  the  choir  up 
to  a  higher  plane  of  life,  and  he  seemed  so^much 
pleased  with  their  effort  that  she  was  delighted^and 
always  welcomed  him  to  the  parsonage  with'a'smile. 

The  choir  with  its  smiling,  sweet  faced  organist 
may  not  be  the  grand  highway  to  heaven;  but  it  is 


not  without  its  pilgrims.  Nancy,  however,  had  other 
qualities.  She  was  thrifty  and  industrious  to  a  fault, 
and  her  taste  ran  to  landscape  gardening. 

Under  her  management  the  parsonage  yard  had 
been  transformed  from  a  dumping  ground  for  tin  cans, 
bones,  barrel  staves,  scraps  of  paper  and  rags  into  a 
beautful  garden.  The  lawn  mower  had  been  freely 
used  and  the  even,  smooth,  velvety  grass  flanked 
with  borders  of  ever-blooming  roses,  violets,  pinks 
and  other  flowers  was  a  sight  over  which  one  might 
linger  with  satisfaction  and  delight.  That  old  hat, 
mildewed  pillow  and  fragments  of  an  old  quilt  that 
once  protruded  from  the  pane-less  window  sash  the 
sturdy  sentinels  against  many  a  stormy  day,  were 
now  conspicuous  by  their  absence. 

I  remember  with  pleasure,  a  little  cluster  of 
morning  glories  she  had  reared  in  front  of  that  win- 
dow to  screen  it  from  the  rays  of  the  morning  sun. 
Her  cunning  fingers  had  trained  them  to  form  them- 
selves into  the  shape  of  a  human  heart,  and  there 
they  blowed  and  quivered  of  mornings  like  a  passion 
flower. 

It  was  a  bright,  sunny  morning,  the  last  Sunday 
in  May,  1899,  the  wind  came  up  from  the  South  in 
refreshing  little  zephyrs,  which  iust  lifted  the  leaves 
of  the  trees,  a  mocking  bird  sat  in  a  June  apple  tree 
near  by  warbling  one  of  those  inimitable  songs  a  mock- 
ing bird  only  can  sing,  and  the  heart  of  morning 


99 

glories  glowed  with  white,  red  and  purple  flowers. 

Abe  was  returning  from  market  and  caught  a 
glimpse  of  Nancy  through  those  beautiful  vines.  She 
was  reviewing  the  Sunday  school  lesson,  and  did  not 
see  him.  He  walked  along  slowly,  and  in  a  half 
dozen  paces  looked  back  as  many  times,  and  thought 
he  saw  in  her  ease,  grace  and  beauty  personified. 
About  this  time,  McGraw  passed  along,  and  slapping 
him  playfully  on  the  shoulder,  said: 

"  Beware  uv  de  mornin'  glories,  many  er  poor 
fello'  er  bout  here  has  lost  his  heart  er  foolin'  wid 
dem  vines." 

"Pshaw,  pshaw!  go  'long  dar,  nigger !  I  ain't 
studyin'  yer,"  said  Abe  as  McGraw  hurried  on  whist- 
ling: 

"  She  was  happy  till  she  met  you, 
And  the  fault  was  all  your  own." 

Abe  walked  along  the  street  in  an  absent  minded 
kind  of  way  till  he  reached  his  home.  He  met  his 
mother  at  the  gate  and  gave  her  a  steak  for  break- 
fast and  pork  roast  for  dinner,  hurried  into  his  room 
and  sat  on  the  side  of  his  bed.  Sitting  there  alone 
he  felt  a  strange  kind  of  sensation,  his  heart  quivered 
like  the  one  of  morning  glories,  and  he  said  aloud: 

"  My,  what  a  flood  of  frien'ly  feelin'  dat  parson's 
gal  'cites  in  me  !  I  wonders  ef  I's  got  heart's  d'sease. 
I'ssuregwine  ter  see  Nancy  ter  day  an*  splanemysef. " 

Abe  now  began  to   arrange  his  toilet  for  Sunday 


IOO 

School.  He  repolished  his  shoes,  washed  his  hands 
and  worked  on  his  finger  nails  for  an  hour,  trimming 
and  brushing  them  till  he  w:>re  them  off  to  the  quick. 
He  then  began  on  his  hair,  and  here  is  where  the 
rub  came.  He  brushed  it  down  on  this  side,  roached 
it  up  on  that,  parted  it  and  looked  in  the  glass  to  see 
if  it  was  becoming;  to  his  chagrin  the  part  was  gone; 
for  his  hair  had  away  of  crawling  back  together  like 
lamb's  wool.  Then  he  brushed  it  back  and  tried  it 
without  a  part.  This  would  not  do;  for  no  gentleman 
of  color  can  call  himself  well  dressed  whose  hair  is 
not  parted.  At  last  the  happy  thought  came  to  him 
to  give  it  a  good  coating  of  pomade,  part  it  in  the  mid- 
dle and  tie  it  down  with  a  pocket  handkerchief  for  a 
while.  This  done,  he  went  on  with  his  toilet  to  a  neat 
and  tidy  finish,  got  his  hat  and  brazon-headed  cane 
and  started  off  for  Sunday  School  just  as  the  bells  of  the 
city  began  to  chime  out  the  hour  of  the  afternoon 
services. 

He  had  been  so  intent  on  making  a  good  ap- 
pearance, that  the  time  had  passed  him  unobserved. 
Thinking  himself  in  time  for  Sunday  School,  he 
walked  leisurely  into  the  church  and  took  his  seat  in 
his  accustomed  place,  drew  the  lesson  sheet  from  his 
pocket  and  began  to  scan  the  golden  text. 

The  congregation,  now  began  to  crowd  into  the 
church,  the  members  of  the  Mandolin  Club  turning 
put  en-mass;  and  seating  themselves,  fixed  their  eyes 


101 

on  Abe.  He  had  forgot  his  head.  There  he  sat  the 
silent  producer,  of  suppressed  laughter.  The  preacher 
seeing  his  predicament  and  the  people  sniggling  be- 
hind their  handkerchiefs  and  fans,  said  aloud: 

"  Will  Mr.  Bragg  please  step  over  to  the  parson- 
age and  bring  me  a  hymn  book  ?  " 

Abe  felt  specially  favored  at  this  mark  of  atten- 
tion, and  pranced  down  the  aisle  of  the  church  in  his 
new  "  Prince  Albert"  suit,  with  visions  ot  an  after- 
noon stroll  with  Nancy,  passing  through  his  mind, 
and  the  people  turning  in  their  seats  to  gaze  at  that 
peculiar  dressed  head,  burst  into  loud  and  fitful 
laughter.  He  met  Miss  Nancy  at  the  door,  and  she 
exclaimed:  • 

"Oh,  Mr.  Bragg,  what  is  the  matter  with  your 
head?" 

Then  he  remembered  the  handkerchief,  and 
reaching  up  for  it.  tore  it  ,from  his  bewildered  pate, 
thrust  it  into  his  pocket,  and  shot  down  the  pave- 
ment like  a  rubber  ball  thrown  from  the  hand  of  a 
school  boy,  and  that  "Prince  Albert!"  Well,  it 
rode  the  air  like  a  swallow's  tail. 

A  few  weeks  later  there  was  a  quiet  little  wed- 
ding up  at  Foley  Chapel,  in  which  the  name  of 
Nancy  Summers  was  merged  into  Nancy  McGraw. 
No  one  ever  saw  Abe  Bragg  at  Foley's  Chapel  again. 
The  last  I  heard  of  him  he  was  blacking  shoes  in  a 


barber  shop  in  Chicago  by  day,  and  taking  lessons  in 
hair  culture  by  night. 

I^et  us  hope  that  he  will  find  some  hidden  re- 
ceipt in  Nature's  laboratory  which  will  obviate  the 
troubles  that  arise  in  making  a  Negro's  toilet. 


Splitting  the  Difference. 


SPLITTING  THE  DIFFERENCE. 


I  T  was  during  the  close  of  our  cotton  season,  last 
year,  when  the  little  incident  of  which  I  am 
now  thinking  occurred.  Owing  to  heavy  rains  and 
disastrous  floods,  the  crops  were  generally  short. 
Peter  Stokes,  an  old  friend  of  mine,  was  feeling  unus- 
ually blue  over  the  results.  The  prospects  were  any- 
thing but  encouraging,  and  the  melancholy  aspect  of 
Peter's  features  was  appalling.  Not  knowing  just 
what  to  do,  he  sat  in  his  chimney  corner  whittling 
and  whistling  one  of  those  plaintive  airs  that  will 
sometimes  involuntarily  escape  from  the  most  of  us. 
That  air  is  familiar  to  more  people  than  Peter 
Stokes.  Many  a  time  it  has  struck  the  strings  of  my 
harp  as  a  kind  of  requiem  to  the  dead  hopes  of  my 
castle-building  ;  for  the  family  purse,  that  is  an  empty 
one,  is  an  unwieldy  thing. 

Since  I  could  remember  the  Stokes  people  have 
been  burdened  with  an  empty  purse,  and  the  thing  is 
beginning  to  tell  on  Peter.  It  is  the  direct  cause  of 
those  long,  deep  furrows  in  his  face,  where  misery 

105 


io6 

nestles  as  complacently  as  if  it  were  a  mouse  of  the 
vestry.  With  the  exception  of  an  old  donkey,  the 
purse  was  the  only  thing  handed  down  to  him  on  the 
demise  of  his  father.  An  heirloom  of  his  ancestry,  it 
descended  to  him  from  remote  times. 

A  few  weeks  ago  Peter  Stokes,  the  elder,  died, 
and  the  day  following  this  sad  event  bis  will  was 
read.  The  family  v^as  a  large  one,  and  could  not,  as 
the  will  directed,  all  assemble  about  the  hearth-stone; 
but  there  was  ample  room  in  the  unfenced  yard,  which 
was  a  part  of  Willow  Flats  Common.  So  Peter,  the 
younger,  and  a  committee  of  three  of  the  older  mem- 
bers of  the  family  were,  by  common  consent,  selected 
to  hear  the  reading  of  it  and  to  report  its  contents  to 
the  remainder  of  them.  The  committee  gathered 
around  the  hearth,  took  fresh  quids  of  tobacco,  drew 
out  their  knives  and  amused  themselves  by  whittling 
while  the  lawyer  read  the  will.  While  this  was  being 
done  their  kinsfolk  stood  about  the  yard  in  little 
knots,  the  young  people  to  crack  jokes  with  each 
other  and  the  older  ones  to  discuss  the  family  pedi- 
grees, which  they  could  trace,  in  a  direct  line,  back 
into  those  dim  and  misty  periods  where  your  imagin- 
ation would  stagger  and  your  memory  lose  itself  in 
the  corridors  of  time. 

The  will  (a  long  and  cumbersome  document) 
was  more  an  attempt  at  philosophical  deductions  on 
the  nothingness  of  human  glory,  and  the  vanity  of 


107 

man's  achievement,  than  a  will.  It  was  full  of  such 
quaint  expressions  as  this  : 

"  My  beloved  kinsmen,  remember  that  you,  as 
did  all  men  before  you,  and  as  shall  all  who  come 
after  you,  came  into  this  world  clothed  in  ignorance, 
and  the  only  thing  over  which  you  will  have  undis- 
puted control  shall  be  a  shroud.  Whatever  your 
earthly  possessions  may  purport  to  be,  this  item  will 
finally  be  the  sum  total  of  them  all.  In  this  you  may 
pose  in  state  for  a  season  ;  but,  be  not  deceived,  this 
world,  with  all  its  pomp  and  show,  its  gloss  and 
tinsel,  is  but  worm- wood  and  gall;  and  the  worm 
shall  survive  you . 

"  Let  this  admonish  you  to  look  well  to  our 
family  motto:  'THE  APPROVAL  OF  A  CONSCIENCE  THAT 

IS  GOOD  AND  CLEAR  IS  MAN'S  BEST  POSSESSIONS  '  " 

After  this  and  many  other  absurdities  similar  in 
their  conclusions,  this  codicil  followed: 

"  Having  remembered  you,  my  kinsmen,  in  the 
above  instrument,  it  remains  my  duty  to  give  to  my 
son,  Peter,  the  purse  of  the  family  ;  and  our  beast  of 
burden,  which  he  will  find  running  at  large  in  Willow 
Flats  Common,  these  he  is  to  have,  to  his  own  proper 
use  and  behoof  forever.  My  old  friend,  Steve  Black- 
well,  is  hereby  made  the  executor  of  my  last  will  and 
testament,  without  bond. 

"  In  testimony  whereof,  I  hereto  affix  my 
[SEAL..]         signature,  this  3th  day   of   July,  1900. 
"PETER  STOKES,  SR." 


io8 

Perhaps  the  old  man's  death,  his  will  and  the 
short  crops  were,  in  some  measure,  the  cause  of 
Peter's  depression  ;  but  not  the  only  cause,  for  he  had 
seen  some  of  these  things  before.  Unfortunate  for 
Peter,  he  was  looking  beyond  the  teachings  of  his 
parents.  He  rather  liked  the  blast  of  trumpets  with 
which  wealth,  renown  and  glory  herald  their  import- 
ance. Lord  Bacon's  philosophy  took  the  ascendancy 
over  that  of  his  father's,  and  he  was  meditating  a 
seizure  of  the  forbidden  iruit.  It  was  the  same  old 
story  :  a  thirst  for  knowledge  ;  a  reaching  out  after 
the  unattainable  ;  a  discernment  between  good  and 
evil,  and  a  fall;  for  truly,  "  Much  study  is  a  weari- 
ness of  the  flesh." 

If  we  were  ignorant  of  the  inalienable  rights  of 
mankind,  and  the  enormity  of  the  evil  heaped  upon 
us  by  him  whom  fortune  has  favored,  perhaps  we 
could  not  feel  that  we  are  an  outraged  atom  of  the 
universe;  and,  to  the  extent  of  our  passive  sensibili- 
ties, could  run  life's  career  with  patience  and  be 
happy.  These  are  the  thoughts  that  flitted  across 
Peter's  mind  on  that  eventful  evening  when  he  sat  in 
his  chimney  corner  whistling  to  his  fallen  spirits. 

Presently  he  went  to  the  door  and  looked  out  on 
the  crimson  of  the  western  skies.  The  twilight  of  a 
clear  December  evening  was  on,  and  Vesper  swung 
down  the  horizon.  Standing  there  alone,  he  had  a 
celestial  vision.  It  always  happens  so.  When  some 


log 

brilliant  son  of  the  poor  escapes  the  thraldom  of  the 
unlearned,  he  follows  the  illusory  cadence  of  the 
muses  until  Fate  reminds  him  that  it  is  by  work, 
work,  work,  and  not  by  the  wag  of  an  eloquent 
tongue,  one  gets  his  daily  bread  ;  yet  Peter,  still  pur- 
suing the  delusion,  dreamed  aloud  : 

"  The  stars  go  down  yon  distant  slopes, 
Where  the  firmament,  like  a  scroll. 
By  the  touch  of  an  unseen  hand, 
Seems  fondly,  carefully  rolled. 

"  Perhaps  they  mark  the  pearly  strand 

Of  Aden,  the  spirit's  goal, 
And  gleam  across  life's  stormy  seas 
God's  beacon-lights  to  the  soul." 

In  the  midst  of  this  miserable  attempt  at  metrical 
expression,  he  heard  the  more  musical  and  reasonable 
voice  of  Ike  Stubb's  ringing  out  on  the  evening  air: 

"Haw,  thar  !  Look  at  yer,  Bill.  Come  here, 
L,ep.  What's  ter  matter  wid  yer,  Brandy?"  and  the 
whick,  whack  pow  of  his  ox  whip,  as  he  drove  his 
team  over  a  bad  place  in  the  road.  This  done,  he 
began  to  dance  and  hop  about  the  road  and  to  sing 
plantation  songs,  to  the  great  surprise  of  Peter,  for 
generally,  Ike  was  as  sedate  as  himself. 

So  Peter  walked  out  to  the  road  to  meet  him  and 
learn  the  cause  of  his  merriment.  He  reached  the 
road  just  as  Ike  drove  up,  and  said  to  him  : 


no 

"  Ike,  what  on  earth  is  the  matter  with  you  ?" 
'  'Kinley  proxerity. " 
"  What?" 
"  'Kinley  proxity." 
"  What  is  that?" 

"  Don't  know  ;   dat's  what  Mr.  Dale  calls  it." 
Thtn  he  began  to  sing  : 

"  I  don't  know  just  what's  the  matter, 

'Ceptin'  I'se  lately  made  a  hit, 
Dat  makes  me  feel  dat  happee,   sah, 
Dat  I  muss  shake  my  foot  er  bit." 

"  But  Ike,  you  forget  you  are  a  deacon  of  New 
Hope  church." 

"  No,  I  furgits  nuthia';  but  I's  too  happee  to  be 
er-foolin'  wid  'ligeon  now.  Dat's  er  spiritous  matter, 
an'  I's  er  feelin'  like  er  fello'  citizun." 

He  then  pulled  out  a  handful  of  new  coin  and 
said  : 

"  Hi  dat  ain't  er  'nough  ter  make  yer  feel  like  er 
gentlemun  uv  de  worl',  I'd  like  ter  know  what  is." 

Pleasantly  surprised,  Peter  asked  him  where  he 
got  his  money,  aud  he  answered  : 

"  S  )ld  my  crap  ter  day." 

By  this  titne  Peter  had  reached  his  side,  and  the 
two  walked  along  by  the  team,  Ike  speaking  to  his 
oxen  occasionally  the  while.  Ike's  success  reminded 
Peter  of  his  father's  will  and  the  family  purse,  and  he 
told  him  all  about  the  old  man's  teachings  and  his 


Ill 

intentions  ;  in  short,  he  said  he  was  thinking  of 
going  into  the  money -making  business  himself,  but 
that  it  was  hard  for  him  to  get  the  consent  of  his  con- 
science. 

After  he  had  finished,  Ike  gave  him  some  valu- 
able advice  on  the  subject  of  conscience.  This  is  the 
Negro's  natural  element.  If  there  is  anything  in  this 
world  he  is  proficient  in,  it  is  advice-giving.  He 
takes  to  it  like  goslings  to  grass.  I  never  saw  one  (and 
I  have  seen  a  good  many)  that  could  not  give  advice 
on  almost  any  subject  imaginable.  They  never  say, 
"  I  don't  know  ";  and,  turning  to  Peter,  Ike  said  : 

"  Look  er  here,  frien';  ef  yer  'spects  to  make 
money,  yer  can't  'ford  to  be  er-foolin'  wid  yer  con- 
shuuce.  No  man  dat  makes  money  can.  Yer  jist 
turn  conshunce  over  ter  yer  wife  and  let  'er  go." 

"Why  Ike!" 

"Git  out  uv  dat  rut  dar,  Ball!  I  knows  what 
1's  talkin'  erbout.  I  ain't  been  in  de  money  traffic 
thirty  year  fur  nuffin'.  I  never  'mounted  ter  much 
tell  I  lost  my  conshunce." 

"  Why,  Ike,  I  thought  you  told  me  your  success 
was  due  to  McKinley  prosperity?" 

"  Haw,  Lep  !  Pshaw,  man  ;  dat's  what  de  mer- 
chan'  said.  'Course,  I  knowed  better." 

"  What  did  your  conscience  have  to  do  with  it  ?" 

"Come  here,  Brandy;    all  tergedder,  boys!     I 


112 

tell  yer  dese  am  bad  roads.  What  my  conshunce  has 
ter  do  wid  it?" 

"Yes." 

"Well  I'll  tell  yer:  Spring  'fore  las'  when  I 
gives  Mr.  Dale  de  las'  deed  of  trust  on  my  crap  an' 
ev'ry  thing  tlse  I  'pre-sed  my  conshunce  er  little 
an'  lef  dat  speckle  ox,  L/ep,  over  thar  out  uv  it. 

"He  axed  me  erbout  him  lots  uv  times,  but  I 
jist  put  er  screw  on  conshunce  and  said,  dat  ox  done 
died  wid  de  hollow  tail  long  er  go.  De  frien'ship  be- 
tween dat  merchin  an'  me  went  ter  pieces  on  dat  ox 
an'  so  one  day  erbout  de  middle  of  plantiu'  time  he 
comes  an'  takes  ev'rything  I  had  but  Lep.  Den  I 
goes  down  in  the  swamp  an'  drives  him  out,  hitches 
him  ler  my  plough  an'  goes  er  head. 

"  What  did  you  do  for  something  to  eat  Ike?  " 

"Well,  I  kinder  scrapped  around  at  night,  an' 
de  oP  woman  peddled  chickens  in  deday." 

"  What  did  Mr.  Dale  think  of  this?" 

Don't  know,  never  sot  my  foot  in  his  store  tell 
last  week,  when  I  drapped  around  to  give  him  er 
friendly  call." 

"  Did  he  have  anything  to  say?" 

"  Oh  yes,  he  wuz  mighty  glad  ter  see  me,  shook 
hands  wid  me  an'  quired  'bout  de  ol'  woman.  He 
axuley  axed  me  ter  take  er  drink  wid  him,  an  '  when 
I  'fused  he  gin  me  er  ten  cent  cheroot  an'  begged 
pardon  fur  axin'  er  deacon  ter  drink." 


"Mr.  Dale  is  a  very  kind  and  obliging  gentel- 
man." 

"Dat's  what  he  is,  or  wuz,  when  he  gin  ter  'quire 
'bout  my  crap." 

"  Of  course  you  told  him  about  your  great  crop." 

"  Not  er  bit  uv  it." 

"Why  not?" 

"  Kase  I  knowed  ef  I  told  him  de  truth  erbout  it 
he'd  make  de  little  balance  I  owed  him  kiver  de 
whole  thing.  He  can  come  nearer  kiverin'  er  crap 
wid  figers  dan  eny  man  I  ever  seed." 

"  Be  careful  Ike  or  you  will  slander  a  good  man. 
There  is  not  a  better  man  in  the  county  than  Mr. 
Dale,  his  honesty  is  proverbal." 

"  Who  said  it  wuzent!  I  wuz  jistspeakin'  'bout 
de  way  dat  man  kin  sifur." 

"  Ike  I  will  not  stand  this;  you  must  apol- 
ogize." 

"  Lem  me  'splain  myse'f." 

"  Very  well,  'splain  yourself." 

"  Well  'bout  de  time  I  got  through  wid  dat  chee- 
root,  er  'niggei'  comes  in  wid  er  basket  uv  good 
things  ter  eat.  Now  I  never  had  much  use  fur  dese 
here  town  niggers,  thep  won't  do  ;  but  dis  one  wuz 
so  very  handy,  I  kinder  fell  ter  likin'  him,  kase  after 
he'd  spread  out  dat  dinner,  he  sidled  up  to  me  and 
said:  "De  boss  tol' me  ter  ax  yer  ter  dinner,  an'  I 


H4 

fetched  yer  de  cream  uv  de  kitchen.  He 
whispered  dat  ter  me  an'  straightway  I  had  er  fellow 
feelin'  fur  him,  kase  I  skivered  dat  he  had  drapt  his 
conshunce.  He  wuz  nice  too,  an'  fetched  er  cheer 
fur  me  ter  set  in .  I  sot  down  an'  helpt  myse'f.  Ar- 
ter  erwhile  de  merchan'  cames  erlong  an'  sot  down 
on  de  other  side  an'  'gins  ter  'scuss  ol'  times." 

"  That  was  very  unusual   for  Mr.  Dale." 

"  Dat's  what  I  thought  at  de  time,  and  I 
kinder  thinks  dat  nigger  put  him  up  ter  it,  kase  er- 
boujt  de  time  I  wuz  gettin'  full  of  pies,  cakes  an'  saus- 
age, dat  nigger  brings  er  round  cheroots  and  wine. 
We  talked  on  erbout  ol'  times  an'  de  merchan'  tuck 
er  glass  of  wine.  Here  my  tongue  slipped  an'  I  said: 
"  Boss  I  'spects  I'll  make  erbout  three  bales  uv  cot- 
ton dis  year."  An'  he  said:  "  Splendid  Ike,  splen- 
did!" an'  looked  at  me  wid  his  big  blue  eys  swim- 
min'  er  round  in  tears  lik  vi'lets  under  dew. 

"Here  I  seed  dat  my  conshunce  wuz  er  gettin' 
onruley  an'  ter  steady  myse'f  I  wiped  de  sweat  off 
my  brow  wid  my  coat  sleave.  Ergin  de  merchan' 
said: 

"  Ike  we  have  been  doing  business  together 
about  thirty  years. ' ' 

"  An'  I  said,  "dat's  right  Boss." 

' '  And  not  a  jolt  in  our  temper. ' ' 

"  Right  ergin  Boss." 


H5 

"  You  remember  there  was  always  a  little  bal- 
ance of  five  dollars  left  over. 

"  Dhar  sure  wuz,  sez  I." 

''  There  are  just  thirty  of  them,  Ike,  which  make 
about  one  hundred  and  fifty  dollars." 

"  What  yer  doin'  in  dat  mud  hole  I/ep? 
Come  here  Ball!"  Whick,  whack,  pow  went  the  whip 
and  Ike  continued: 

"  Den  he  said  ter  me." 

"  Ike  as  you  have  been  a  good  "nigger"  and 
given  me  no  trouble  during  all  these  years,  I  am 
going  to  knock  off  fifty  dollars.  Give  me  a  hundred 
dollars  and  call  it  even." 

"  De  next  day  I  tuck  him  de  three  bales  of  cot- 
ton an'  we  settled  like  men  an'  I  got  twenty  dollars 
over.  Dat's  what  he  calls  'Kinley  proxerity.  He 
den  gives  me  er  calicur  dress  fur  'Lizer.  He  stcod 
in  de  door  uv  his  store  while  I  wuz  loading  my  wag- 
in  an'  spied  ol'  L,ep  over  dar,  an'  said:  "Ike  that 
looks  like  that  spotted  bull  you  told  me  died  of  the 
hollow  tail?" 

"Den  I  told  him  how  fur  er  year  I  tied  ol'  I/ep 
out  in  de  woods  wid  my  conshunce,  ter  keep  him  off 
uv  dat  deed  uv  tiust.  Dis  wuz  de  truth  erbout  it, 
and  we  drapt  de  matter  by  laughing  it  off." 

"Ter-day  I  tuck  him  seven  bales  of  cotton  more  an' 
got  ten  cent'  er  pound  fur  it." 


u6 

"  And    you    call    this    suppressing    your    con- 
science?" 

"  Yer  can  put  any  'struction   on  my    'marks   yer 
want's  ter,  I  wuz  jist  givin'  yer  er  case  in  pint." 
Here  Ike  stopped  his  team  and  said  : 
"  Peter  what  ever  come  uv  yer  pa's  oP    jack?" 
"  He  is  out  on  Willow  Flats  Common,  why?" 
"I  wuz  thinkin'  dat    I'd  like  ter  give  yer  er 
trade  fur  him.     What'll  yer  take?' ' 

"  He  is  not  for  sale  at  any  price,  Ike." 
"  No  harm  in  er  feller  axin  yer,  I  hope.  I's  not 
er  hankerin'  a'ter  my  neighbor's  goods,  but  I  always 
had  er  weakness  fur  dat  critter.  Ef  yer  ever  takes  er 
notion  ter  expose  uv  him,  I  has  fifty  dollars  fur  yer." 
"  Peter  now  bid  Ike  good  night  and  started 
back  for  his  home.  As  he  walked  along  the  lonely 
road  Ike's  offer  of  fifty  dollars  would  ever  and 
anon  flaunt  itself  in  his  face  and  taunt  him  with  his 
empty  purse.  Again  and  again  he  turned  the  rel- 
ative values  of  fifty  dollars  in  gold  and  his  father's 
old  donkey  over  in  his  mind.  God  pity  the  rich  man 
if  gold  disturbs  his  slumbers  as  it  did  Peter's  that 
night.  The  next  morning  he  was  up  betimes  and 
went  out  to  Willow  Flats  Common,  to  look  at  his 
donkey.  He  had  not  gone  far,  before  to  his  great 
amazement,  he  found  him  by  the  railroad  track  dead. 
For  a  moment  he  was  at  his  wit's  end  ;  then,  remem- 
bering the  fifty  dollars,  he  started  off  for  Ike's  house 


with  a  bound.  He  found  him  in  his  lot  feeding  his 
oxen,  and  said  to  him: 

"  Ike,  I  have  thought  of  your  offer  all  night  and 
I  have  concluded  to  let  you  have  the  donkey  at  fifty 
dollars." 

"  Not  now,  yer  ought  to  have  tuck  me  up  last 
night.  Since  I  comes  ter  think  uv  it,  he's  too  old. 

"  You  are  mistaken  about  his  age,  Ike.  He  is 
not  over  seven  years,  if  that." 

"  Ha  !  ha  !  ha  !  what  yer  done  wid  yer  con- 
shunce?  "  Man,  dat  jack  am  fifteen  years  old,  ef  er 
day." 

"  No  he  is  not.    Go  look  at  his  teeth." 

•'  I  has  er  better  way  than  dat  ter  prove  his  age. 
Whar's  Mose  ?  Mose,  come  here  Mose  !" 

"  Here  me,  daddie." 

"  How  old  is  yer,  boy  ?" 

"  I's  eighteen,  daddie." 

"How  you  knows  dat,  son?    Tell  Mr.  Stokes." 

"  Kase  mammy  says  I  wusborn  when  Mr.  Smith 
built  the  new  gin  house,  an'  I  heard  him  say  year 
before  last  dat  he  built  it  eighteen  year  er  go." 

"  Right,  son.  Ah,  Mr.  Stokes,  I  told  yer  so, 
dat  jack  wuz  er  colt  when  Mose  wuz  er  baby." 

' '  There  is  fifteen  years  good  service  in  that 
donkey  yet,  Ike."  Said  Peter,  in  one  desperate  effort 
to  bring  Ike  around  to  a  trade. 

"  Does  yer  think  so  ?  " 


n8 


"  I  know  it." 

11  Den  I'll  tell  yer  what  I'll  do." 

"Yes." 

"  Split  de  diffence  wid  yer." 

"  Split  the  difference  with  me  !" 

"Dat's  it,  yer  an'  yer  daddy  has  had  dat  jack 
fifteen  or  more  years;  I'll  take  de  other  fifteen  an  give 
yer  twenty-five  dollars.  What  yer  say?  Is  it  er 
trade?" 

41  As  I  am  needing  money  pretty  bad,  I  guess  I'll 
have  to'take  it,  but  it  is  a  hard  bargain.'' 

"  I  has  yer  money  here  sah." 

So  saying,  Ike  counted  out  twenty-five  dollars 
and  handed  it  to  Peter.  He  took  it  and  demanded 
twelve  and  a  half  dollars  more. 

"  Man,  is  yer  crazy?  Twenty-five  dollars  wus  de 
price." 

"  No,  thirty-seven  and  a  half  dollars  was  the 
price.  I  wanted  fifty  dollars,  you  offered  twenty-five. 
Then  we  split  the  difference." 

"  No  sah,  we  split  the  difference  in  time,  not 
money.  Yer  have  de  money  an'  its  er  trade." 

"  It  is  not  a  trade;  here  is  your  money  back. " 

"  No,  no,  no  !  I  makes  no  chillun's  barg'ins,  its 
er  trade.  Mose,  come  here  Mose  !" 

"Yes,  sah." 

"  Son,  yer  go  look  fur  dat  jack,  an' don't  yer 
stop  till  yer  has  kotched  him,  do  yer  hear." 


Upon  this  Moses  started  off  to  look  for  the  don- 
key; Peter  turned  away,  saying  he  would  sue  Ike; 
and  Ike  went  into  his  house  and  sat  down  to  his 
morning  meal,  with  all  the  ease  of  a  prosperous  man, 
sipped  his  coffee  and  talked  pleasantly  to  his  wife,  of 
his  affairs;  dwelling  with  satisfaction  on  his  trade 
with  Peter. 

Leaning  back  in  his  chair  and  rubbing  his  hands, 
he  said: 

"  Lizer,  dat  wuz  the  trade  uv  my  Hie.  De  idee 
uv  some  folks  boastin'  uv  superiosity.  I  got  dat 
"  Red  Neck's  "  jack  fur  less  'an  ha'f  his  value.  He's 
worth  er  hundred  ef  er  cent.  Got  him  fur  twenty- 
five." 

About  this  time  Moses  came  running  in,  and 
said:  "  Daddie  the  jack  is  dead  !" 

"  What  yer  say?;' 

"  Dead  !" 

"Who's  dead?" 

'•  De  jack  yer  bought  from  Mr.  Stokes.  ' 

Upsetting  his  coffee  and  stumbling  over  a  chair, 
Ike  rose,  grabbed  his  hat  and  bolted  out  of  the  door. 
Running  at  full  speed,  he  soon  reached  the  station 
where  Peter  was.  Some  distance  away  from  it,  how- 
ever, he  saw  Peter  talking  to  a  well  dressed  man,  and 
just  as  he  got  in  speaking  distance  of  them  he  heard 
the  well  dressed  man  say: 

"  Split  the  difference,"  as   he   stepped   into    the 


magistrate's  office.     Coming  up  to  Peter,  Ike  said: 

"  Yer's  er  capitul  joker;  but  I  wants  my  money 
back." 

"  You  want  what  ?  " 

"  My  money.  I  sees  it  all  now;  its  er  joke  an' 
no  trade." 

"  No,  Ike;  its  a  trade  and  no  joke." 
Ike  insisted  that  it  was  not  a  trade   and    Peter 
held   that  it   was.     But   Peter   was   simply   leading 
Ike  along,  and  seeing  his  opportunity  he  said: 

"  Ike,  since  you  say  the  donkey  is  dead,  I'll  tell 
you  what  I'll  do." 

"  What's  dat,  boss?" 

"I'll  split  the  difference  with  you;  give  you 
twelve  and  a  half  dollars  and  take  the  dead  donkey. 
What  do  you  say  ?  ' ' 

After  a  moment's  pause  Ike  said: 
"  Well,  dat's  more  'an  nothin',  I'll  take  it." 
Again  it  was   a  trade;  and   Peter  handed  him 
twelve  and  a  half  dollars.     They    now  walked   into 
the  magistrate's  office   where  the  well   dressed  man 
was.     He  took  Peter  aside  and  they  held  a  conversa- 
tion in  an  undertone:  but  Ike  heard  him   say  "split 
the  difference,"  and  Peter  say,  "yes."     Then  they 
came  back  to  the  table  and   the   well    dressed   man 
wrote  a  receipt  which  read  as  follows: 

"  Received  of  the  Illinois  Central  Railroad  Com- 
pany seventy-five  dollars  for  one  donkey,  which  was 


121 

killed  by  the  cars  of  the  Company,  December  22, 
1900;  said  seventy-five  dollars  being  in  full  of  all  de- 
mands by  me  against  said  Company  down  to  date. 

PETER  STOKES." 

Then  it  was  Ike  walked  up  to  the  well  dressed 
man  and  said:  "  Boss,  please  tell  me  yer  name  ?  " 

"Fred  Sampson,  Stock  Claim  Agent  for  the  Il- 
linois Central  Railroad  Company.  Why?" 

"  Well,  Mr.  Sampson,  yer  is  er  mighty  fine 
specification,  but  yer's  ez  green  ez  I  is.  Both  uv  us 
is  duped  by  the  trader  uv  dead  jack  asses. 


Adam  Shuffler, 


"ADAM  SHUFFLER." 


ADAM  SHUFFLER. 


I  N  cunning,  the  Negro  measures  up  favorably  with 
•*•  the  rest  of  the  human  family;  and  in  dissimula- 
tion he  is  a  "  Past  Master."  He  can  give  the  Span- 
iards, the  Chinaman  or  any  other  class  of  human 
beings  points  in  this,  the  finest  of  arts.  If  ever  he  is 
placed  on  our  diplomatic  staff,  where  he  can  de- 
ceive with  impunity,  the  world  will  be  startled 
with  the  smoothness  of  his  procedure.  It  is  this  trait 
more  than  any  other,  perhaps,  that  has  kept  him  from 
being  utterly  ruined  by  his  pale  faced  brother. 

And  now  that  we  are  alone;  out  of  ear-shot  of 
the  vulgar;  you  and  I,  secluded  from  the  prying  gaze 
of  the  public  eye,  I  will  tell  you  of  a  little  incident  in 
the  life  of  my  old  friend  Adam  Shuffler.  I  must  ex- 
act of  you,  however,  an  unconditional  promise  that 
you  will  not  tell  it  to  another,  living,  human,  being, 
because  I  pledged  him  upon  my  sacred  honor, "that  I 
would  never  divulge  it,  except  in  a  low  breath,  and 
that  to  a  brother,  professionally.  Perceiving  you  to 
have  been  initiated  I  await  your  promise  ? 

Ah,  thank  you ! 

125 


126 

Well,  to  begin  with;  Adam  was  of  the  old  school. 
To  use  his  own  words,  he  was  "one  of  de  'fore  de 
war  niggers,  dat  knows  er  white  man." 

He  had  been  caught  in  the  act,  and  brought  in 
on  the  usual  charge,  "Chicken  lifting,"  tried,  con- 
victed and  was  about  to  b?  sentenced  when,  the 
Court,  by  way  of  amusement,  asked  him  if  he  had 
anything  to  say  why  he  should  not  be  fined. 

If  I  live  till  the  end  of  time,  I  cannot  forget  the 
repentant  aspect  of  his  features  as  he  rose  to  state  his 
case.  His  was  not  dilitory  pleas  and  demurrers,  nor 
special  pleas  in  bar  and  abatement;  but  a  bundle  of 
extenuating  circumstances  that  was  a  defense. 

Standing  there,  and  wiping  the  sweat  from  his 
forehead  with  his  coat  sleeve,  he  said: 

"  Mars  William,  please  read  ter  me  dat  little  bit 
uv  ne-vs  what  yer  was  readin'  when  I  comes  in 
here." 

"  Certainly,"  said  the  magistrate  and,  picking 
up  the  paper,  he  read  as  follows: 

"  Mr.s.  A.  B  Johston,  widow  of  a  gallant  Confed- 
erate soldier,  is  in  dire  distress  and  want.  Her  house 
was  burned  last  night.  All  she  had  went  up  in  smoke. 
The  White  Ribbon  Society  appeals  to  a  generous  pub- 
lic in  her  behalf.  Anything  given  will  be  thank- 
fully received.  Leave  all  contributions  with  Mrs.  A. 
L,.  Dodd,  and  oblige. 

MRS.  ANNIE  SMITH,  President. 


127 

The  magistrate  laid  the  paper  aside,  and  Adam 
said: 

"  Mars  William,  what  didyer  say  yer  foun'  me?" 

"  Six  dollars  and  cost,  Adam." 

"  How  much  is  dat  ?" 

"  Nine  and  a  half  dollars." 

"  Well,  I's  jist  got  ten  dollars,  yer  take  it  an' 
give  it  to  dat  widow  wid  my  complimentory.  I  aint 
er  gwine  ter  see  no  soldier's  widow  suffer  while  I's 
got  er  cent.  An'  ef  yer  can  get  er  little  cookin'  an 
washin'  fer  Lizer  ter  do,  I'd  be  mighty  thankful'  fur 
she  aint  got  er  dust  uv  meal  in  de  house.  I'll  work 
dis  here  fine  out,  an'  if  de  good  Lord  lets  me  live  I'll 
let  Inzer's  hens  raise  de  chickens  we  eats  a'ter  dis." 

"  But,  Adam,  there  are  six  other  charges  against 
you;  how  about  those?" 

"  I's  nothin'  more  ter  say." 

"  Why,  the  total  cost  and  fines  of  these  charges 
would  be  sixty-six  and  a  half  dollars,  and  it  will  take 
you  thirteen  months  to  work  them  out  on  the  prison 
farm.  Do  you  plead  guilty  to  these  charges?" 

"  I  leaves  dat  ter  yer  white  iolks." 

"The  magistrate,  feeling  the  force  of  Adam's 
sacrifice,  folded  up  the  other  affidavits  against  him 
and  filed  them  away  as  he  said  to  Adam: 

"  The  constable  will  take  you  to  jail,  I  will  not 
try  you  .on  the  other  charges  to-day. " 

The  officer  led   him  away;  the  magistrate  gave 


128 

his  contribution  to  the  White  Ribbon  Society ;  and  a 
newspaper  reporter,  who  was  a  silent  observer  of  the 
little  scene,  wrote  up  a  vivid  description  of  Adam's 
action  in  the  court  room,  under  this  glaring  head 
line:  "A  GENEROUS  NEGRO." 

That  night  every  business  man  of  the  city  read 
the  story  of  the  "Generous  Negro,"  to  his  family, 
and  the  next  dav  a  subscription  was  started,  not  only 
for  the  widow,  but  for  Adam  also.  All  the  other 
fines  against  him  were  withdrawn,  his  fine  of  nine  and 
a  half  dollars  wa?  paid  and  a  nice  little  sum  was 
handed  to  his  wife  by  the  president  of  the  "  White 
Ribbon  Society." 

He  used  to  laugh  and  tell  me  about  it,  always 
winding  up  with  these  significant  remarks: 

"  I  knowed  I  wuz  playin'  er  trump  card;  but  I 
had  no  idte  dat  I  wuz  gettin'  er  good  name  fur  hon- 
estee  dat  would  last  fur  ever.  Dat  wuz  twentee 
years  ergo,  an'  I's  had  spring  broilers  on  my  table 
ev'ry  mornin'  since.  I  tells  yer  dat  de  best  placejor 
de  cullod  brudder  am  in  Mississippi,  an'  de  best 
thing  fur  him  ter  do  after  he  gits  dar  is  ter  git  on  de 
white  side  uv  public  'pinion." 

I  hopa  this  little  narration  of  Adam's  proclivities 
is  sufficient  to  introduce  to  you  our  family  trait,  and 
reljing  on  you  to  keep  your  promise  and  never  divulge 
what  I  have  told,  I  bid  you  a  merry  good  night. 


Hagar, 


HAGAR 


)  ~J  AGAR   was   a   peculiar,  though    good    woman. 

•*  -*•  When  I  say  good  I  hope  you  will  understand 
me,  and  not  look  for  anything  beyond  the  ordinary. 
I  simply  mean  that  there  was  not  a  particle  of  good 
within  the  circle  of  her  environments  which  she  did 
not  absorb.  From  this  point  of  view,  she  was  as  good 
as  she  could  be.  L,ike  the  most  of  us,  she  had  her 
prejudices,  and  generally  formed  her  opinions  of 
people  and  things  from  hearsay.  These  opinions, 
once  formed,  were  never  changed.  They  were 
just  so. 

In  this  she  showed  her  ante-bellum  rearing,  and 
reflected  every  sentiment  of  that  high-minded  and 
chivalrous  people,  who  have  allowed  their  opinions 
to  so  crystalize  into  a  single  idea  that  they  are  known 
the  world  over  as  the  people  of  the  "  Solid  South." 
She  was  as  much  a  part  of  this  people  as  if  her 
features  were  as  white  as  monumental  alabaster,  and 
her  eyes  tinged  with  the  blue  of  an  April  sky  ;  and 
yet,  she  was  as  black  as  polished  ebony. 

Her  form   was  not   as  graceful  as  some  I  have 


132 

seen  ;  yet,  from  the  view  point  of  the  anatomist,  her 
physique  was  one  which  you  might  envy.  She  was 
about  five  feet  high  ;  half  as  wide  out  as  she  was  tall, 
apparently  ;  thick  in  proportion,  and  tipped  the  beam 
at  two  hundred  pounds. 

With  her  tin  tub  under  her  arm,  she  appeared  to 
best  advantage  in  her  work-day  clothes  ;  with  a  hand- 
kerchief wound  about  her  head  like  a  Turkish  turban, 
her  skirts  hitched  up  at  the  side  and  fastened  with 
the  strings  of  her  apron,  she  stood,  in  her  number  ten 
brogans,  a  giantess  indeed. 

There  were  many  things  in  her  simple  life  worthy 
of  the  attention  of  the  ethologist ;  but,  as  his  is  a 
science  above  me,  I  shall  content  myself  with  this 
simple  story  of  her. 

From  early  life  she  had  collected  from  rumor 
reports  of  the  acts  of  that  class  of  our  fellow-citizens 
commonly  called  "  Red  Necks,"  which  had  so  biased 
her  opinion  that  she  viewed  them  with  an  evil  eye. 
To  be  brief  about  it,  she  looked  upon  them  as  White 
Caps,  murderers  and  assassins ;  and,  if  they  were  not 
cannibals,  they  were,  nevertheless,  savages  who  would 
apply  the  torch  to  a  Negro's  cabin,  lynch  him  or  burn 
him  at  the  stake,  with  as  much  lightheartedness  as 
school  children  would  enter  upon  the  gambols  of  a 
holiday. 

These  reports  were  highly  colored  with  fiction, 
it  is  true,  but  she  believed  them,  and  hence  she  was 


WITH   A   TIN   TUB   UNDER  HER  ARM." 


133 

unprepared  to  give  the  Red  Necks  impartial  considera- 
tion. This,  I  confess,  was  a  bad  state  of  mind  for 
Hagar  or  any  one  else,  and  my  apology  for  her  is  this: 
Her  mental  make-up  had  less  of  the  divine  than  the 
human  in  it,  and,  leaning  to  the  shady  side  of  her 
nature,  she  fell  into  those  little  errors  to  which  human 
nature  is  prone. 

Actuated  by  these,  she  brooded  over  the  annals 
of  the  Red  Necks  until  they  became  the  burden  of  her 
thoughts  and  the  incubus  of  her  slumbers  ;  and,  if 
she  could  have  had  her  way,  something  out  of  the 
usual  order  of  things  would  have  happened.  As  it 
was,  the  expected  occurred. 

"Arson  ?" 

No,  not  that !  The  winking  at  the  law  by  us 
Americans,  together  with  the  license  we  give  the 
favored  few  to  do  violence,  has  not  so  far  advanced  in 
its  tutelage  of  our  meaner  passions  as  to  cause  us  to 
retaliate  with  the  torch  ;  but  we  are  improving.  Per- 
haps the  legacy  we  leave  our  children  may,  in  the 
fourth  generation,  have  this  item  to  its  credit.  This, 
however,  is  not  the  theme  of  these  remarks ;  and  it  is 
not  necessary  to  dwell  longer  on  the  proclivities  of 
Hagar. 

It  is  enough  to  say  that  May  the  ist,  1895,  Mr- 
Trobridge  moved  into  the  community  where  she  lived. 
She  was  away  from  home  at  the  time,  but  she  returned 
during  the  early  afternoon,  and  her  children  met  her 


134 

at  the  gate.  Gathering  around  her,  they,  with  moist 
eyes  and  ashen  lips,  whispered,  "Red  Necks!"  and 
pointed  across  the  street  to  where  our  brother  in 
white  had  moved,  whereupon  she  and  the  children 
hurried  into  her  house.  Once  over  the  threshold,  she 
shut  and  barred  the  doors,  fell  across  the  bed  and 
cried,  "Oh!  Lord,  de  devil  is  done  come." 

Unmindful  of  her  misgivings,  Mr.  Trobridge 
went  about  his  business  as  cheerfully  as  was  custom- 
ary with  him;  and  it  is  but  doing  him  justice  to  say 
he  was  a  broad  and  liberal-minded  man,  who  was 
above  the  little  racial  prejudices  that  pervade  inferior 
minds.  He  felt,  nevertheless,  that  white  men  are 
above  black  ones  by  force  of  divine  will — that  it  was 
not  in  the  nature  of  things  for  Negroes  to  equal  Cau- 
casians; hence,  he  was  above  those  little  malicious 
tendencies  Hagar  supposed  a  Red  Neck  to  have;  and, 
thankful  for  the  superior  position  in  which  the  Master 
had  placed  him,  he  was  trying  to  obey  the  command, 
"Go,  ye,  therefore,  and  teach  all  nations."  With 
this  thought  uppermost  in  his  mind,  he  took  his  resi- 
dence among  the  Negroes,  determined  to  treat  them 
graciously.  Unfortunate  for  him,  however,  he  had  a 
rosy  complexion  and  a  red  neck.  From  this  point  it 
was  but  a  step  to  the  combative  tendencies  a  Red 
Neck  is  said  to  have,  she  took  it.  Brooding  upon 
these,  she  was  soon  as  malicious  as  she  believed  Mr. 
Trobridge  to  be,  and  she  meditated  violence. 


135 

There  was  no  getting  along  with  Hagar.  She 
was  on  the  rampage  from  start  to  finish.  Many  are 
the  misdemeanors  she  committed,  all  of  which  Mr. 
Trobridge,  good-naturedly,  overlooked.  Thus  favored, 
she  developed  a  boldness  that  was  menacing,  and  suc- 
ceeded with  her  meanness  pretty  well  in  everything 
but  one.  She  could  not  keep  her  boy,  Sam,  away 
from  the  Trobridge  residence.  Do  what  she  would, 
he  turned  up  there  occasionally,  and  was  quite  handy 
in  running  errands  and  doing  little  jobs  of  work 
around  the  house  and  garden  ;  for  all  of  which  Mrs. 
Trobridge  paid  him  handsomely,  and  frequently  gave 
him  little  bits  of  sweetmeats  from  her  pantry, 

But  the  thing  that  attracted  Sam  most  was  the 
billy  goat  the  Trobridge  boys,  Bill  and  Tom,  had. 
This  goat  had  been  taught  to  do  all  manner  of  tricks; 
and  of  evenings,  when  school  was  out  and  the  work  all 
done,  the  boys  had  glorious  times  with  it  on  the 
commons  behind  the  lot.  They  called  the  goat 
Sul.,  in  honor  of  their  ideal  prize-fighter,  John  L,. 
Sullivan,  and  because  of  the  quick  and  sudden  lunges 
it  always  made  in  the  many  fights  they  mischievously 
got  it  into.  Using  its  head  as  Sullivan  would  his  fist, 
the  goat  was  a  pugilistic  gentleman  of  high  standing 
among  the  boys. 

This  also  was  a  source  of  annoyance  to  Hagar 
and  furnished  her  with  an  additional  pretext  to  taunt 
the  Trobridga  family,  so  she  made  it  a  point, 


136 

whenever  she  saw  them  on  'their  front  gallery  with 
company,  to  stand  in  her  door  and  yell  to  the  top  of 
her  voice — and  she  had  a  voice — a  big,  sonorous,  one 
that  would  make  the  welkin  ring.  With  this  voice 
pitched  in  its  uppermost  keys,  she  would  call,  "You 
Samu'l?  Ef  yer  don't  come  er  way  from  dat  poor 
white  trash,  I's  gwin  ter  beat  yer  gizart  out  en  yer." 
Now  if  there  is  anything  in  this  world  that  will 
rasp  a  white  man's  soul,  it  is  to  be  called  poor  white 
trash  by  a  negro.  This  is  usually  his  fighting  piece, but 
Mr.  Trobridge  stood  it  pretty  well.  He  rather  en- 
joyed seeing  Sam  scamper  away  and  come  up  through 
his  mother's  back-yard  whistling, 

I  don't  want  to  play  in  their  yard, 
I  don't  like  'um  any  more;" 

and  to  hear  Hagar's  blasted  scolding,  "look  er  here 
nigger,  don't  yer  come  er  foolin  wid  me,  I  has  er 
mindter  beat  de  liver  out  en  yer." 

In  spite  of  herself,  Hagar  was  getting  the  worst 
of  it ;  and  between  the  Trobridge  family  and  Sam, 
she  found  worry  enough  to  urge  her  to  resentment. 
Gradually  she  worked  herself  up  to  desperation.  At 
last  she  concluded, "dat  er  Red  Neck  wuzn't  so  much 
no  how  ;"  and  she  hankered  after  a  personal  combat. 

Burning  with  this  desire,  she  lay  down  one  day 
for  her  after  dinner  nap,  and  soon  fell  to  dreaming  of 
cracked  heads,  pools  of  blood  and  the  funeral  of  a 


137 

certain  prominent  citizen,  from  which  she  was  awak- 
ened by  the  clock  on  the  stroke   of  four  o'clock  p.  m. 

It  was  May  3oth,  1895.  All  the  neighbors  of  the 
vicinity  had  gone  to  the  Decoration  except  Mr.  Tro- 
bridge.  In  the  'after-malice'  of  her  dreams  she  look- 
ed up  and  saw  him  in  his  yard,  under  an  elm  tree. 
His  hat  had  fallen  off,  his  paper  lay  loose  on  his  knee 
and  his  jaw  had  collapsed.  He  slept.  Then  it  was, 
she  seized  a  large  carving  knife  and  hurried  out  with 
it  under  her  apron.  She  crossed  the  street  and  crept 
along  the  side-walk  by  the  board  fence  till  she  was 
near  the  point  where  he  was.  Here,  through  a  crack 
in  the  fence,  she  caught  a  better  view  of  him.  There 
he  was  with  his  head  dropped  to  one  side,  his  shirt 
collar  open  and  his  red  neck  in  full  view.  Was  there 
ever  a  better  mark  for  the  assassin's  blade.  She  crept 
cautiously  on,  reached  the  gate,  lifted  the  latch  and 
looked  around  to  see  if  all  was  clear,  she  was  alone 
with  her  victim;  and  save  Sul.,  the  goat,  that  stood 
near  chewing  the  advertising  page  of  the  paper,  there 
was  no  eye  to  see. 

Nearer  and  nearer  she  came,  took  the  knife  from 
its  hiding  place  and  ran  her  thumb  along  its  blade  to 
test  its  edge.  It  was  never  sharper.  Then  crouch- 
ing and  leaning  forward,  she  nerved  herself  for  the 
fatal  blow,  when  suddenly  there  was  a  lunge  and  a 
pile  of  ebon  hued  flesh  lay  along  the  earth,  with  a 
very  much  bruised  head,  from  which  there  came 


.     138 

groans  of  agony  and  despair.  These  disturbed  the 
sleeper  and  he  awoke.  Looking  down  on  the 
prostrate  form  before  him  he  thought  she  was  sufier- 
ing  of  apoplexy;  and,  going  to  the  hydrant,  he  turned 
a  faucet  and  dashed  water  in  her  face. 

This  revived  her  somewhat  and  scrambling  to  her 
feet  she  said,  "  Thank  yer  sir;  yer's  sure  been  good 
ter  me,"  and  left  his  premises.  Is  it  necessary  to  say 
the  goat  thought  Hagar  was  after  him,  and  accepted 
the  challenge. 


A  Dollar's  Worth  of  Conscience, 


A  DOLLAR'S  WORTH  OF  CONSCIENCE. 


|  ETER  SNELUNG  was  accustomed  to  windows 
*  in  the  crown  of  his  hat.  Long  before  he  came 
to  his  patrimony,  his  weather  worn  coat  hung  from 
his  shoulders  awry;  his  legs,  always  a  little  crooked, 
had  taken  additional  curves.  These,  however, 
were  thonght  to  be  due  to  the  dip  of  his  shoes.  His 
pure  English  had  lost  its  refinement  in  the  slang  of 
the  slums;  in  short,  socially  speaking,  his  sun  had 
set.  This  was  his  wretched  state  when,  on  the  tenth 
day  of  May  1880,  the  executors  of  the  Snelling  Es- 
tate, handed  over  to  him  his  legacy  of  twenty-five 
thousand  dollars. 

I  remember  him  well.  The  day  before  he  came 
into  the  Mission  Station  and  took  the  pledge  of  the 
"White  Ribon  Society"  and  in  a  nice  little  speech 
emphasized  his  intention  to  lead  a  better  life.  Per- 
haps I  gave  him  unusual  attention,  because  of  the 
light  that  beamed  in  the  eye  of  our  secretary, 
Blanche  Burtrim,  while  he  was  addressing  the  meet- 
ing. Miss  Burtrim  was  an  unassuming;  sedate  kind 
of  a  person  and  during  the  short  year  of  our  acquain- 

141 


142 

tance  I  do  not  remember  to  have  teen  her  smile,  and, 
were  it  not  for  the  attention  she  gave  the  topers,  who, 
from  time  to  time  attended  our  meetings,  one  would 
have  thought  hers  a  hard  and  unforgiving  nature, 
void  of  the  tender  sentiments  of  affection. 

Attracted  by  the  smile  that  rippled  across  her  face, 
I  watched  her  through  the  whole  proceedings  of  the 
evening's  exercise  to  learn  at  last  that  hers  was  an 
affair  of  the  heart,  deep,  lasting,  eternal  and  that  her 
king  of  hearts  had  taken  the  pledge. 

The  meeting  closed  and  they  walked  slowly  down 
the  aisle,  under  the  chandeliers  together.  She,  with 
her  face  aglow  in  its  triumph,  looked  on  his  haggard 
features  and  smiled;  and  when  he  gave  her  the  assur- 
ance she  had  prayed  for  she  laughed  aloud.  Oh!  the 
music,  the  cadence,  the  indescribable  grandeur  and 
beauty  Hope  gives  the  visage  when  it  laughs  and 
chases  Despair  from  the  soul  wfth  ^mile. 

I  now  determined  to  keep  this  young  man  under 
my  observation;  and  you  may  be  sure  I  was  agreeably 
surprised  while  walking  down  Beal  street,  in  Mem- 
phis Tennessee,  a  few  days  later  to  see  a  nice  little 
sign,  swinging  before  the  main  entrance  of  the  office 
bnildiug  of  the  city,  upon  which  was  written'  "PE- 
TER SNELUNG,  Attorney  and  Courcelor-at-I^aw." 
I,ater  in  the  day,  during  my  rambles  about  the  city, 
I  found  him  directing  the  renovation,  repairing  and 
painting  of  the  old  Snelling  homestead  which  had 


143 

been  closed  for  years.  A  fortnight  later  I  received 
an  invitation  to  a  quiet  wedding  at  St.  Andrew's 
church,  22nd  Avenue,  Memphis,  Tennessee.  I  went 
and  saw  groom  and  bride  plight  their  faith  over  the 
bridal  altar  and  pass  thence  to  the  pilgrimage  of  life. 
Need  I  tell  you  our  Secretary  married  the  toper,  Pe- 
ter Snelling. 

After  this,  life  hurried  us  along  our  different 
ways  and  I  could  not  see  them  as  often  as  I  desired; 
but  I  heard  from  them  occasionally,  and  the  reports, 
I  am  pleased  to  say,  were  encouraging.  They  were 
in  the  lap  of  fortune,  and  the  world  smiled.  Time 
passed  and  I  heard  that  my  friend  Snelling  had  made 
a  fortune  by  speculating  in  cotton  futures.  This,  to 
be  sure,  was  not  bad  news;  but  some  how  I  shuddered 
when  I  heard  it.  How  could  I  do  otherwise,  when  I 
remembered  the  gidy  heights  to  which  this  pursuit  of 
fortune  leads  one;  and  how  rapid  the  descent  if  for- 
tune should  frown;  for  he  who  gambles  at  stocks, 
securities  and  futures  has  no  more  certain  gains  than 
the  man  who  plays  at  rouge-et-noir.  The  end  is  ruin. 
The  years  passed  and  things  changed,  the  annals  of 
which  are  not  necessary  to  this  narration.  It  is 
enough  to  say  that  my  young  friend,  flushed  »vith  the 
excitement  of  the  exchange,  followed  his  associates 
to  the  club  rooms;  where  champagne,  wine  and 
whiskey  inveigled  him  to  the  giddy  heights  whence 
fortune  takes  its  flight  and  the  miserable  wretch  that 


144 

dallies  with  it  must  descend  the  slippery  prescipice 
to  the  bottomless  pit.  Snelling  began  his  descent 
with  a  blast  of  trumpets  and  a  group  of  the  boys,  hale 
and  hearty  fellows,  well  met.  Easily  and  impercept- 
ibly to  himself  he  \\ent  down  until  his  name  became 
a  by-word. 

Every  one  forsook  him  but  his  wife.  She,  like  the 
gaurdian  angel  she  was,  hovered  about  him  in  his 
degradation;  and  in  the  hovel  he  finally  designated  as 
home,  prayed  for  his  deliverance.  At  no  time  had  he 
a  definite  state,  but  his  tendency  was  generally  down, 
till  late  one  night  he  came  in  from  a  wild  debauch  and 
fell  senseless  to  the  floor  in  a  drunken  stupor.  She 
was  sick  at  the  time,  but  she  nursed  him  into  con- 
sciousness. 

Then  it  was  his  thirst  became  unbearable  and  he 
plead^with  his  wife  for  just  one  more  drink,  as  one 
under  convic'ion  for  crime  pleads  for  respite;  and  she, 
yielding,  gave  him  their  last  coin,  saying,  "take  it 
Peter,  it  is  the  last  of  all  your  fortunes."  Handing 
him  a  note  also,  she  sank  to  their  pallet  of  straw,  of  a 
broken  heart.  He  gave  the  note  a  passing  glance  and 
dropped  it  to  the  floor  in  contempt.  The  note  read  as 
follows: 

May  loth,  1895. 
"  Pete  Snelling: 

Your  rent  is  six  months   in   arrears.     Unless 


145 

you  pay  it  to-day,  I  shall  have  to  put  you  out   by 
force. 

HARRY  STONE." 

Spelling  paid  but  little  attention  to  the  notice, 
but  with  the  dollar  in  hand  he  went  out  for  his 
drink,  and  as  he  hurried  along  the  street  some  truant 
school  boys,  meeting,  him,  began  to  sing: 

"Old  Peter  Snelling  ! 
Smell  'm,  smell  'im,  smell  'im, 
Like  a  barrel's  bung, 
He  smells  of  rum, 
Rum,  rum,,  rum." 

He  stopped  to  listen  and  the  boys  passed  on, 
yelling,  "  Like  a  barrel's  bung  he  smells  of  rum." 
till  they  lost  themselves  in  the(  distance;  but  still  the 
echo,  "  Rum,  rum,  rum,"  fell  upon  his  years,  like 
distant  thunder. 

His  legs  now  refused  to  carry  him,  and  he  sank 
to  the  curbstone  and  wept  aloud.  Memory  was  busy 
with  him,  and  it  carried  him  back  to  the  mission 
station,  where  many  years  ago  Hope  stamped  on 
Miss  Burtrim's  face  its  triumphant  smile  as  he  took 
the  pledge.  It  all  came  back  like  an  avenging 
Nemesis  to  haunt  him.  He  remembered  the  Snelling 
fortune— gone,  all  gone  !— not  a  cent  remained. 

At  last  he  felt  the  dollar  Blanche  had  given  him, 
and  with  it  he  resolved  to  renew  the  battle  of  life. 
"  I  will  return  and  give  her  this,"  he  said,  and  clutch- 


i46 

ing  it  in  his  boney  fingers,  he  arose  and  walked  erect 
to  their  humble  home,  a  converted  man. 

He  found  his  wife  on  their  pallet  of  straw  where 
he  had  left  her;  and  calling  her  by  name,  he  said, 
"  Blanche,  I  have  a  dollar's  worth  of  conscience  left, 
and  it  has  brought  it  back  to  you."  She  answered 
him  not.  Then,  bending  over  her,  he  lifted  her  in 
his  ams  and  looked  her  in  the  face.  She  recognized 
his  repentance.  At  the  close  of  his  plea  for  forgive- 
ness, she  answered:  "  Peter,  again  I  forgive  you  all." 
These  were  her  last  words.  Then  the  sun  was  dark- 
ened and  a  mourner  went  about  the  street  penniless 
and  alone:  for  the  soul  of  Blanche  Burtrim  had  passed 
to  its  reward, 


DC  Eloquent  For'well. 


DE  ELOQUENT  FAR'WELL. 


r^  PHRAIM  and  Eliza  were  on  the  snnny  side  of 
•*-*  what  had  been  a  stormy  courtship.  I  suppose 
this  from  the  fact  that  they  were  mutually  attracted 
and,  it  is  said,  "  true  love  nevar  runs  smoothly;" 
and  because  of  the  furter  fact,  that  the  Rev.  Phillip 
Saunders,  Eliza's  father,  was  opposed  "Ter  low 
bred 'niggers'  'stnuating  on  the  cullord  'stockracy." 
These  were  his  words  whenever  he  happened  to  speak 
of  Ephraim. 

It  was  for  this  reason  more  than  any  other,  per- 
haps, that  Parson  Siunders  sent  his  daughter, 
"I^izer,  ter  College,"  whence  after  two  years  hard 
study,  about  Eph,  she  returned  with  a  certificate  of 
proficiency  "in  de  art  uv  hoecake  making,"  and  a 
smattering  of  the  king's  English. 

The  evening  alter  her  return  Ephraim  called  to 
see  her;  and  she,  still  laboring  under  her  infatuation 
for  him,  gave  him  a  hearty  welcome.  They  passed  a 
delightful  evening,  and  ere  they  were  aware  the 
clock  chimed  out  the  midnight  hour.  It  was  time  to 
go,  and  Ephraim  was  performing  that  painful  duty. 

149 


150 

"  Dis  am  whar  my  'gre's  comes  in;"  he  said,  as  he 
paused  on  the  steps,  took  her  by  the  hand  and  looked 
wistfully  up  into  her  face,  with  that  peculiar  swell- 
ing throat  and  trembling  lip  which  we  have 
all  felt  when  framing  our  plea  for  love's  first  kiss, 
when  Eliza,  a  little  vain  of  her  college  training,  be- 
gan to  talk  of  the  eloquence  of  farewell;  repeating,  for 
instance,  a  nice  little  poem  from  the  annals  of  Tus- 
kegee  lore,  which,  as  well  as  I  can  remember,  was  in 
these  words: 

"Dah  am  times  when  one  lingers, 
When  yer  tongue  done  stood  stark  still, 
Times  when  de  touch  of  fingers, 
Sends  throu'h  de  heart  er  thrill. 
When  yer  soul  tug's  at  its  burden, 
Queries  of  de  mystic  spell: 
Whose  gwine  er  be    in  yer  sweet  thought 
When  I  has  said  farewell  ?  " 

Instead  of  a  kiss  Ephraim  now  plead  for  a  copy 
"  Uv  dem  sweet  lines;"  and  she  scribbled  them  off 
and  gave  them  to  him.  Placing  them  in  his  inner 
pocket,  next  to  his  heart,  he  retired. 

How  extravagant  are  the  dreams  of  those  who 
love  !  Was  there  ever  a  living,  human,  being  as  pretty 
as  Eliza,  when  she  stood  on  her  father's  veranda  re- 
peating "  De  eloquent  far 'well?  "  With  her  spark- 
ling eyes  and  graceful  airs,  she  was  the  delight  of 
his  wakeful  hours  and  the  idol  of  his  dreams. 

Love     makes  all    things    beautiful,    and     from 


Ephraim's  point  of  view  Eliza  was  as  lovely  as  the 
graces.  He  lay  down  and  spent  the  night  in  dreams 
of  her. 

The  next  morning  he  was  up  and  at  work  be- 
times with  a  ligiit  heart  and  aa  active  fancy,  suoh  as 
reciprocated  affection  always  gives.  He  was  a  horse 
jockey  and  worked  at  the  stables  of  Mr.  George 
Jones;  and  while  he  was  a  faithful  servaat,  he  was 
not  a  very  active  one.  A  kind  of  plod  ling  fellow 
that  cared  nothing  about  the  forelocks  of  time.  For 
this  reason  Mr.  Jones  kept  a  close  watch  on  him;  but 
on  this  occasion  he  had  groomed  the  horses,  cleaned 
out  the  stalls,  and  was  sittiug  on  an  inverted  wheel 
barrow  racking  his  brain  in  the  vaia  effort  to  find 
some  suitable  rhyme,  "  Fer  dem  sweat  lines  of 
Inzer's,"  when  Mr.  Jones  walked  up  to  him  and  en- 
quired what  he  was  about.  He  told  him  of  his  last 
evening's  call  on  Eliza,  showed  him  her  stanza,  and 
with  a  sigh  from  his  perplexed  soul  expressed  aide- 
sire  "  ter  'muse  dat  parons's  gal."  Somewhat  of  a 
verse  maker  himself,  and  feeling  a  deep  simpathy  for 
Ephraim,  Mr.  Jones  undertook  to  help  him  out;  and 
so  it  was,  he  wrote  for  him  these  simple  lines: 

"  Adie  !    It  is  never, 
Farewell  to  you  my  dear, 
You  are  present  ever, 
In  fancy  always  near, 
Bewitching  with  your  manners, 
Enchanting  with  your  face, 
Subduing  me  fair  angel, 
With  your  elegance  atid  grace. ' 


152 

Nothing  could  have  pleased  Ephraim  better  than 
tnese  lines  and  he  began  to  train  upon  them  at  once. 
He  repeated  them  over  and  over  again  until  he  knew 
them  as  well  as  he  knew  his  own  soul.  This  done, 
he  began  to  practice  on  the  proper  pose  and  gestures 
to  be  used  in  his  rehearsal.  No  pains  were  spared; 
for  this  was  to  be  the  occasion  of  his  life.  There  was 
to  be  no  more  quotations  from  the  legeniary  annals 
of  Negro  lore;  even  those  racy  little  lines: 

"  Ez  sure  ez  the  stump  holds  up  de  vine, 
Yer  am  a  lobley  sweet-heart  uv  mine." 

were  forgotten,  or  rather  crowded  out  by  Mr  Jones' 
compliments  to  Eliza's  stanza.  Ephraim  was  elated 
and,  ever  and  anon,  he  would  repeat  to  himself: 
"  Gwine  er  courtin'  like  white  folks." 

Then  pausing  iu  his  work  he  would  say:  "L,em- 
me  see  ef  I  knows  it,"  and  go  on: 

"  Er  d'eu  !  it  am  neber, 
Far'well  ter  yer  my  dear;",] 

"  Dat  am  fine,  'ristocratic,  I's  sure  gwine  ter 
spread  myself  ter  night. 

"  Yer  is  wid  me  eber, 
In  fancee  al'awys  near." 

"Dat's  what  she  is;  wonder  how  dat  white  man 
eber  kotched  my  thought.  He's  sure  got  er  'zern- 
ment." 

These   and   a   thousand    other    nonsensical   ex- 


153 

pressions  fell  from  Ephraim's  lips  that  afternoon  as 
he  went  about  the  stable,  happy  in  the  thought  that, 
for  ouce  in  his  life,  he  could  give  Eliza  the  enter- 
tainment her  polite  manners  and  station  deserved. 
Mr.  Jones,  a  thorough  elocutionist,  was  an  ideal 
teacher;  and  Ephraim  was  an  attentive  and  eager 
student.  He  learned  his  lesson  well.  Their  efforts 
were  in  every  way  a  success.  Ephraim  was  happy, 
and  ere  the  sun  was  down  he  had  arranged  his  toilet 
and  was  on  the  way  to  Eliza's  where  he  arrived  a 
few  minutes  after  eight  o'clock. 

She  was  in  splendid  spirits  and,  as  was  usual 
with  her,  gave  him  a  pleasant  time  In  many  re- 
spects the  evening  was  the  most  delightful  one  he 
had  ever  witnessed.  He  was  never  in  better  humor; 
and  his  wit  was  fine.  Filled  with  admiration  for  each 
other,  they  laughed — and  talked — and  sang;  he 
growing  bolder  and  she  losing  some  of  her  coyness  as 
the  time  went  by. 

The  Reverend  Saunders  was  busy,  "  'Paring  a 
sermont  fer  de  sinner  "  cong'egation  uv  Big  Bethel," 
a  church  of  Methodist  persuasions  down  in  Sum- 
merville,  and  hence  did  not  disturb  them  with  his 
frequent  visits  to  the  sitting  room  as  was  customary 
with  him  when  Ephraim  was  pieseut.  But  love  in 
the  flesh  has  a  transient  effect  and  joy  is  as  rapid  in 
its  flight  as  time. 

Again,  the  clock  chimed  out  twelve,  "  Midnight ! 


154 

an*  I  aint  sed  my  piece  yit,"  he  thought,  and  arose 
to  go.  She  rose  also  and,  side  by  side,  they  walked 
slowly  toward  the  door,  she  toying  with  his  hat  the 
while.  They  stoppped  on  the  steps,  andEphraim,  as 
directed  by  Mr.  Jones,  lilted  her  hand  to  his  lips  and 
kissed  it,  saying  as  he  did  so:  ''  Miss  Lizar  wont  yer 
conglomerate  me  wid  er  replication  uv  dem  sweet 
lines  'bout  de  eloquent  far' well?"  She  discovered 
that  Ephraim,  under  a  slight  nervous  attack,  had 
mixed  things  a  little;  bat  she  was  cool  and,  anxious 
to  please  him  as  well  as  to  coax  him  into  popping  the 
question,  threw  her  soul  into  expression  and  said  her 
verses. 

Then  it  was  that  he,  taking  a  dramatic  pose,  be- 
gan as  follows: 

11  Er  d'eu  !    It  am  neber, 
Far'well  ter  yer  my  girl, 
Yer  am  wid  me  eber, 
Ter  de  end  uv  dis  big  worl' 
Disgustin'  wid  yerjgraceless, 
Highfaluntin'  gaze, 
An*  hautin'  me  fer  eber, 
Wid  yer  outdacious  ways." 

Surprised  and  disgusted  with  the  poetic  outburst 
of  her  gallant  wooer,  she  gave  him  a  pitiless  look  of 
scorn  andin  an  instant  she  closed  the  door.  Dazed  by 
her  sudden  flight,  he  turned  on  his  heel  and  stag- 


155 

gered  down  the  steps,  muttering  as  he  went:  "Well, 
now  ef  dat  aint  cur'ous  !  dah  aint  no  tellin'  'bjut  er 
gal  no  how.  Dat  gal  can't  'preciate  good  po^ms. 
She's  jest'  igno'nt,  dat's  all. 


FAREWELL,  AURELIA. 


I  stand  in  the  crowded  boulevard, 

Where  the  city's  horde  goes  by, 
And  many  are  they  I  follow 

Down  the  pavement  with  a  sigh, 
For  the  like  of  her  whom  fate  hath  borne, 
Forever  and  forever  off, 

Across  the  mystic  sea  ; 
The  sainted  one  the  angels  loved, 

And  took  away  from  me. 

But  nevermore  will  rise  for  me 

Life's  stormy  seas  above, 
That  radiant  star  which  marked  my  fate, 

The  lady  of  my  love, 
For  the  angels  envied  her  to  me, 

And  o'er  my  azure  sky  they  hung 

The  shadow  of  a  pall, 
Through  which  her  orbs  send  not  their  beams, 

Nor  comes  answer  to  my  call. 

Farewell,  farewell !    a  last  farewell !! 

Incentive  to  love's  dream, 
Thou  radiant  being  from  whose  soul 

A  thousand  graces  gleam, 
And  light  thee  to  thine  Aden, home, 

Where  cherubs  will  embrace  thee,  love, 

With  ecstacies  divine  ; 
Yet  know  they  but  adore  thee  there 

With  passion  less  than  mine. 


IN    AN    INSTANT   SHE   CLOSED   THE    DOOR. 


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